Temple of Lodovique
by LaVioleBlanche
Summary: CAS-T13L is a simple service unit, obeying without question. Then one day he meets a Bounty Hunter named Dean, and the two of them realize that nothing in this world is simple. Inspired by Skydoll comics. Destiel, Sabriel. M/M
1. Chapter 1

So this is a big, epic fic idea I've been kicking around for a while. I've actually done a whole series of character sketches for it, which I can link to if anyone's interested. This story is mostly inspired by Skydoll, and maybe a bit of Bladerunner. This will be Destiel and Sabriel, with maybe a few other random pairings. Dean and Sam don't show up for this chapter, but they will in the next. Also, be prepared for a LOT of nerdy references!

Characters do not belong to me.

...

The year: 2342

Location: The State (Formerly North America)

In the year 2114, Artificial Intelligence was sustainably created and put to use by the mega-corporation Massive Dynamic. At first, this invention was used only in a military aspect- fighter planes that needed no pilot or remote control, tanks that drove themselves and were not swayed by protestors. Then, in 2150, a rival company, the Cathedral Corporation, came forward with the idea of completely removing the need for loss of human life in the military by means of a new project- The Nephilim. These robotic automatons, when given Massive Dynamic's AI, would take the place of human soldiers. They felt no pain, no fear, and followed orders unquestioningly. The project was given the go-ahead by the American government. In 2166, the Nephilim, as any sci-fi enthusiast could have predicted, turned on their creators. They attempted to neutralize every militant nation worldwide by wiping out almost half their populations. When, at last, they were stopped, the decision was made that no form of robotic beings were to be manufactured, and that the remaining Nephilim were to be terminated. In 2200, Cathedral introduced a new idea: instead of robots, a fusion of human and mechanical components would be used to create a different line of protectors: the android creations called Angels. With no need of AI, these beings could think for themselves on a base level- enough that Asimov would be proud. They had basic survival skills, but would obey any human command, or commands from a specific human once programmed. Their bodies could be formed of the hardest steel or softest flesh, and they could be encoded with an endless multitude of personalities, or none at all. The first to be tested on the market were the Archangels- a small faction of fierce, intelligent, and loyal servants, built to protect and defend human life in the face of even a nuclear holocaust. In 2223, the Angel series was made available to the public as anything from bodyguards to butlers, from private tutors to personal whores. They took over tasks that were dangerous or tedious or difficult, "making your life into your own little Heaven", as the selling pitch went.

...

CAS-T13L (Cooperation And Servitude unit, Angel Series, Transcendental Legion- an all-purpose android built for menial tasks) rises from his power save mode, eyes shuttering open and closed as he runs a quick diagnostic on his systems. Beside him, in the next power station, U-R13L (Utility unit, Regal Series) is doing the same.

"Good morning," CAS-T13L says, testing his vocals and, as usual, attempting to adjust the perpetual glitch in his throat which makes his voice ever-raspy.

"Good morning," U-R13L replies evenly.

"I had another malfunction, I believe, last night," the first android states quietly. "I saw a man. A man I have no records of in my data banks. He was-"

"Have you completed your diagnostic?"

"...Yes."

U-R13L turns baleful brown eyes on him. "What are the results?"

"They remain unchanged," CAS-T13L sighs, which earns him a reproachful glance. "No anomalies detected."

U-R13L nods once, satisfied, and disconnects himself from the power Halo, considering the matter closed. He exits the small chamber, heading for whatever task he's been assigned.

CAS-T13L sighs again before he can catch himself, then freezes as his daily assignments are fed directly into his brain via the Halo- a sort of metallic tube which fits into the rounded gold panel at the back of his head and recharges his Grace every evening. Today, his orders are simple: repairs on GAB-R13L, then to the metalworking factory to melt down scraps for reuse.

He detaches and gathers up his repair kit, slipping through the door and onto the elevator. His first job is both good and bad. He's very skilled at repair- at putting things back together, even without a manual. That's good. And he likes seeing GAB-R13L, likes talking while he fixes him, likes knowing that he can help in some small way. That's Bad (the capital B is automatic in his mind). He shouldn't like visiting GAB-R13L. He shouldn't _like_ anything at all. He's meant to be emotionless, like his Brothers, like U-R13L. He's different, and that's the type of thing that could get him scrapped, or worse- he could be recycled, like GAB-R13L. That's why he keeps his odd traits to himself, telling only U-R13L and GAB-R13L, who either don't care enough to report him, or care enough not to.

Shaking away the thought, he steps from the elevator and into the lobby of the Garrison, where a few of his fellow Angels are milling about doing various tasks. He nods at AN-NA, the Android Notification Network, Angel Series, high above in her permanent station at the controls. She scans him briefly with her large violet eyes and moves on. AN-NA is in charge of communication between every system, every android, and she relays changes or anomalies to MC-AL, the Mechanical Control Archangel unit at Heaven, the Cathedral's headquarters.

CAS-T13L walks down the city streets relatively unbothered, accompanied mostly by his fellow androids and the occasional hobo or early-morning businessman. He could fly- he's one of the handful of service droids equipped with wings- but walking through the nearly-quiet city is another one of the things he hides an enjoyment for. It's barely 4 am, the sun's light filtered and watery through the dozens of solar shields and reflective glass buildings. He reaches the Den of Inequity within twenty minutes, checking in at the desk with Chastity, the Madame of this particular brothel. There are still places that offer human services, but, as GAB-R13L himself puts it, "why pay for Earthly pleasures when you can get Heavenly ones without even breaking the law?".

Chastity directs CAS-T13L to suite 69, which she seems to find amusing despite his deadpan expression. He enters the room with trepidation, steeling himself for whatever damage has been done.

GAB-R13L is curled on his side, small and pale and silent, on the large heart-shaped bed at the center of the chamber. He is naked but for the scarlet sheets twisted around him, his body dappled with bruises, streaked with drying blood from every orifice. His eyes are closed.

People think that androids are incapable of feeling pain or pleasure, that they simply obey their programming and approximate an appropriate response to whatever stimulus they sense. This is not true. For beings like GAB-R13L- L0K1, as he is now called- filled with human nerve endings and human blood under nearly-human skin, each bite stings, each scratch and thrust and kick and slap leaves a mark and loads his receptors with genuine pain. It makes his screams more 'real', makes him more popular, makes for better income. L0K1 is a Lover unit, a Keepsake, which means he's been re-encoded. He used to be GAB-R13L, a Grade A Battle unit, an Archangel. He was ruthless and indestructible, until he disobeyed an order (he won't tell CAS-T13L what the order was, no matter how many times he asks). Since he was an Archangel, such an expensive and complex unit, MC-AL decided he wouldn't be destroyed, as happens with other malfunctioning droids. His intelligence, his Grace, was taken from his armored, impervious Vessel, impressive and imposing with its triple sets of wings and its Holy Sword capabilities, and placed in this small, frail, soft body. Left to the predatory humans, without the protection of the Legion or the shelter of the Garrison.

CAS-T13L cannot help but think that MC-AL was cruel rather than merciful when he did this.

He touches his Brother's arm, and L0K1 stirs, opening his amber eyes- a holdover from his Archangel form. "Did I fall asleep?" He asks.

"For a little while." The dark-haired Angel lifts his repair kit. "I am here to fix you."

"Mmhmm." The smaller android rolls into a seated position, uncaring when the sheets fall away, and bares his skin for CAS-T13L's examination.

CAS-T13L bends down and begins wiping away the rivulets of blood that run from a series of scratches on the ex-Archangel's shoulder blade. He digs around in the kit for his auto-stitch, placing the tool against the damaged skin and watching as it knits itself back together without a flaw. He repeats the process systematically across L0K1's body, using various tools to stitch skin, heal bruises, clean blood, readjust dislocated circuits and bones. GAB-R13L is quiet for the first five minutes, body shaking minutely every now and then as it adjusts. When CAS-T13L snaps his arm back into place, he speaks up.

"Any more dreams lately?"

The taller Angel frowns, concentrating on the alignment of his patient's nose. "They are not dreams. They're... malfunctions."

"So that's a yes. You see that guy again? Mister Dreamy McGreen Eyes?" Along with his new body, GAB-R13L was given a personality amplification, to make him more interesting. In CAS-T13L's opinion, which he should not have, GAB-R13L was already interesting- the amplification only made him snarky and sarcastic.

"I- yes. I saw him."

"And?" L0K1 prompts with a twisted grin. "What was he doing this time?"

"He was..." The repair android recalls his strange vision. "He was falling into fire. And then he was somewhere else, and he was shouting and angry and his hands were covered in blood. And then he- he was smiling and standing with a tall man and a man with a beard. He was smiling at me, I think. But then he was angry again. At me, maybe."

"Some Prince Charming complex you got there."

"I don't know what that means." CAS-T13L pulls away, glancing over his Brother's newly healed body. "I believe I am finished with this part. How do you feel? Is your mentality compromised?"

GAB-R13L barks out a laugh. "How do I feel? You know, for someone with no sense of humor, you're pretty funny sometimes." He laugh again, and it sounds strangled. "I feel fantastic, little bro. I feel like a slice of cake, just waitin' for someone to stab me with a fork or take a big bite outta me. How do you think I feel?"

The blue-eyed Angel peers sadly into L0K1's own golden eyes. "You have sustained damage to your skull. I may need to reboot you."

The former Archangel shakes his head, still laughing sickly. "It's all just so fucked, baby bro." He is the only one who ever calls CAS-T13L anything other than his name or "android". He is shaking again, his hands running over his shoulders like he can still feel the ghost of his wings. "They come and they hurt me, you come and you fix me, they come and hurt me all over again, it's a never-ending fucking cycle. I just... I can't take it much longer, and they know it. What happens when I get too damaged? Or when they stop sending you to patch me up? I'll just get more and more broken 'til there's nothing left and they throw me on a scrap heap or melt me down so what the hell's the _point_?"

CAS-T13L watches his Brother break down with a somber expression. When GAB-R13L's words die out and give way to more shaking, he climbs onto the bed and gently cradles the smaller being. L0K1 immediately stiffens, then seems to remember that CAS-T13L is not a client and relaxes into his arms. "If they told me to cease reparations on you," the taller droid says quietly, disclosing a secret, "I would find a way to get you help."

"Ah, CAS-T13L," the battered Angel sighs, "I know you'd try. But if you really wanted to help me, you'd switch me off and throw me into a damn melting furnace."

The dark-haired being is silent as he reaches up, stroking L0K1's hair and brushing his fingers along the rim of his Halo panel, which no longer functions as a recharger, but still contains a switch. He flicks it and GAB-R13L goes limp in his arms without a sigh. He stands up, arranging the short body on the bed and tucking the satin sheets around him, then flicks the switch again and his Brother shifts, blinking.

"Did I fall asleep?" He asks, glancing down at his repaired form with no memory of the last minute or so. No memory of his suicidal pleas, or CAS-T13L's promise.

CAS-T13L swallows, feeling the glitch in his throat like a stone. "For a little while," he says.


	2. Chapter 2

Cookies for everyone that got my Dollhouse and Fringe references in the last chapter! I love love LOVE all of your reviews!

In this chapter we get to meet the Winchesters, and a few other familiar faces!

...

Dean stumbles his way down an emergency fire escape and into an abandoned alley, leaping past the overturned trash cans the quarry has thrown his way. He catches a glimpse of it as it darts down the narrow lane and onto the street. Cursing, he puts on a burst of speed, yelling into his comm, "Sam, it's headed your way! Down Bishop Street! It's tryin' to shake me in the crowd!"

"I'm on my way, don't lose sight of him!" Sam's voice comes through loud and tense over the earpiece.

The rogue Angel melts quickly into the swarm of midmorning travelers, ducking and weaving amongst them, and for a second Dean thinks he's lost it. Then he spots the flash of blonde hair, the black jacket, as it jogs casually toward one of the darker side streets. "Gotcha!" He shoves his way through the swarming mass of people, ignoring indignant protests. "Sam, it's cutting across to Bell Avenue, toward the factories!"

"I'm stuck on Dunham! There's a crash; the cops aren't letting anyone by!"

"Shit!" Dean chases after the android, still yelling at his brother. "I knew I shouldn't have let you drive!"

"Like it's my fault there's an accident, jerk!"

"Bitch!" Dean clears the crowd and runs into the dark passageway.

"Look, I can't get to you; just head back to the meeting point!" Sam snaps in exasperation.

"No way! I'm closin' in on it! It's only one Angel, Sam, I can take it- we need the cash!"

"Dea-" But Dean switches off his comm, cutting the other Winchester short as he picks up his speed once again. The rogue is a distant spot in the huge, near-vacant lot of a melting plant, far but not gone. There's still a chance that the Bounty Hunter could get there, make this catch, make them some decent money at last. The bounty on B-Alt-Hazard, a former Bionic Alteration unit, is enough that the Winchesters could pay their own rent for a few months, even pay Bobby back for the loans he's given them (though he insists there's no debt). And if Dean manages to bring the droid in alive, the prize will be even higher. B-Alt-Hazard- or Balthazar, as it now calls itself- is a resistance fighter, one of the higher-ups in the Angelic Liberation Front, AKA The Fallen. Inside that bio-mechanical brain is, doubtless, a wealth of information that could lead to the capture of dozens more rogues.

Dean unsheathes his pulse gun and makes for the factory as the Angel slips inside.

...

CAS-T13L is the only one on duty today- which is fine, because it's a simple enough task to work the enormous bellows and pour the molten metal into its molds, and he likes to be alone. He is in the middle of the process, just about to begin pouring, when a door several stories down slams open. He walks to the edge of his platform, along the rim of the largest melting chamber, and peers down, all the way to the cold, metal-shaving-dusted floor below. There is a tall blonde figure, bolting the door shut and pressing himself against the wall in an attempt to become invisible. He's wearing simple street clothes- he could almost pass for a human civilian were it not for the sharp, manufactured lines of his face and hands- but there is something painfully familiar in the way he moves, the tilt of his head and curve of his jaw, and CAS-T13L blurts without thinking, "B-Alt-Hazard?"

The android's head snaps up to look at him, pale eyes intense, and his hunted expression gives way to shock, then to a disbelieving grin. "Castiel?"

It _is_ him. He's always pronounced CAS-T13L's name like a word, like a human name. The dark-haired Angel powers up his wings, dropping to the floor in front of his old companion. "But-" It really is him, real and standing right in front of him. "But you were decommissioned. You were terminated."

"Ah. Yes," the light-haired android's smile falls. "I am sorry about that. I had to, ah, disappear for a bit."

There's a slam at the door, and B-Alt-Hazard- Balthazar, CAS-T13L reminds himself- jumps. "And I'd love to spend hours explaining myself to you, Castiel, I really would, and you deserve it, but right now I'm in a bit of a pickle. Got a few Hunters on my trail, and I'm sure old Raph isn't far behind."

CAS-T13L's breath catches in his processors. If the Re-education Archangel is chasing Balthazar, it could be very, very dangerous, not only for the rogue Angel, but for everyone around him. RAPH-1L is a Hunter droid, and he is programmed to capture his target without distraction, human or android. If anyone gets in his way, he is authorized to destroy them.

The door bangs again, straining on its hinges, and CAS-T13L takes hold of the blonde's arm. "There's a spare set of wings upstairs," he rasps, launching them into the air.

...

Dean's shoulder is very quickly sore from slamming the door with it, and he glares at the stupid unbreakable glass of the windows. He's wondering if he should risk firing his gun at the door- it might rebound and while it won't kill him at this setting, it won't be pleasant and he'll likely lose his lunch- when his comm crackles to life without being switched on.

"Bounty Hunter Dean Winchester," an authoritative male voice snaps, "Cease and desist your hunt. An Archangel has been dispatched to retrieve the rogue. If you continue on your current path, your safety will not be guaranteed."

Dean hesitates a moment, weighing his options. It might be a while before the Archangel gets here; he probably has time. "Blow me," he grunts into the comm, giving the door a hefty kick. It begins to buckle under his onslaught, and his grip on the gun tightens.

...

Balthazar slips free of his shirt and CAS-T13L lifts the heavy, outdated spare wings, clicking them into place in the grooves of the other being's back. Below them, the door finally slams open, a human bursting in with a gun and a furious expression. Balthazar takes a step back, toward the open ventilation window next to them. He looks at the Servitude android sadly.

"I should take you with me," he murmurs. "You should come with me, Castiel." His fingers brush CAST-T13L's chin, his lower lip.

"I- I can't," the dark-haired Angel whispers. "You know I can't."

The blonde nods, expression nostalgic and affectionate. "I know." His wings begin to power up as the human clangs up the stairs. "I'll come back for you. You and Gabriel. I promise." He plants a quick peck on CAS-T13L's cheek, something he used to do when they worked in a hospital together, years ago. CAS-T13L had almost forgotten it.

There's a burst of light and a shower of debris as a hole is blasted into the ceiling. RAPH-1L descends, Holy Sword drawn, face grim as he bears down on Balthazar. In the same moment, the human Hunter reaches the top step and fires a pulse at the rogue. Balthazar ducks, pulling CAS-T13L down with him, and the human fires again, just as RAPH-1L reaches the platform. The pulse slams the Archangel into the wall, sending bricks and dust flying into the orange-tinged air. Balthazar seizes the opportunity, shooting through the window and away in an instant. CAS-T13L barely notices him leave.

He's staring at the Bounty Hunter in front of him. The green-eyed man.

...

When the grit and rubble sifts away from the air, Dean curses at himself for losing the target, coughing and hacking and pissed off. He's about to retreat down the stairs when a steel fist connects with his gut, doubling him over and sending him to his knees. The Archangel looms over him, eyes glowing in a cold, emotionless fury as it intones, "You have cost me my prey."

"I woulda had it if you hadn't gotten your shiny metal ass in my way!" Dean snaps, wheezing. He knows it's a really, _really_ bad idea to sass back at an Archangel, but, well, he's not the smart Winchester. He's the impulsive Winchester.

The impulsive Winchester who's currently getting his clock cleaned by said Archangel.

RAPH-1L snarls and grabs him by the leg and shoulder, hoisting him into the air before slamming him down onto the hard metal grate of the ledge. Dean makes a sound like "hhngfh" and reaches once more for his gun, but the Archangel stomps it into bits and reaches for him again-

-and suddenly goes down like a ton of bricks, collapsing onto the floor to reveal the other android- a service droid in a skinny, nerdy-looking little body- with a horrified expression and impossibly wide, electric blue eyes.

For a long moment they just stare at each other, Dean's breath slowly coming back. His gaze flicks down to the senseless droid at their feet. "What the hell did you do?"

"I-" The blue-eyed Angel suddenly leans down and hauls the Hunter to his feet, stepping uncomfortably close, staring searchingly up into the human's face. "I switched him off. He has an automatic reboot- he'll be awake in a moment. You should run."

"What? But you're..." Dean steps back, uncomprehending, unsure how to word his question. "You helped me. Not him."

"Yes," the android whispers, looking terrified again.

"Why?"

...

The green-eyed man is staring at him, looking somewhere between confused and angry, and CAS-T13L is simultaneously exhilarated and petrified. He's just attacked an Archangel, he's attacked RAPH-1L, possibly the most dangerous Archangel in the Legion, and yes, he'll have to face the wrath of said Archangel when he wakes. But here he is, the man from CAS-T13L's "dreams", impossible and real and looking right at him, and something sickening and dizzying and amazing passes through his nerves and circuits.

"Why?" The human demands again, looking angrier.

"I..." How can he explain this? He can't. "I just-"

He doesn't get the chance to finish, because apparently RAPH-1L's reboot is faster than he thought. The larger android roars back to life, grabs hold of CAS-T13L and flings him aside before sweeping one massive wing through the air at the Bounty Hunter's head.

The blow knocks the human from the ledge, plummeting into the enormous melting vat, toward the molten liquid steel below, and CAS-T13L doesn't even think, doesn't even hesitate for a second to fire up his wings and launch himself into the vat. He dives at such a speed that for an instant he thinks he is too late, that the human has fallen into the magma, before realizing that he has overshot him. He brakes, the heat at this depth far too much for anything living- his feet and hands have gone cherry-red, glowing orange, and he shoots back upward toward the falling figure, one hand gripping a shoulder tightly, feeling his superheated palm burn through the material of the jacket before he can stop it the other hand tangling in something under the man's shirt and feeling it snap. He pulls them up through the haze, raising the man back to the ledge, past RAPH-1L, down to the cool floor and depositing his charge gently. His hand comes away bloody, bits of skin clinging to it, and he realizes he's burned all the way to the flesh. The man should be in terrible pain, but RAPH-1L's strike knocked him out. In his other hand is a necklace, tangled around his fingers. It's a simple design, a leather cord and a metal trinket, torn from the Hunter's neck.

CAS-T13L tears off the sleeve of his white work suit, wrapping it around the wound, and stands, leaving the human as safe as he can as he turns to face his punishment.

...

Dean comes to with a headache and an overall sense of dull pain, like a full-body hangover. He groans, rolling over, and fumbles for his comm, switching it on to find a dozen or so angry messages from Sam.

"Nnh..." He calls his brother back. Sam picks up after the first ring.

"Dean? Where the hell have you been? I've been calling for-"

"Yeah, yeah, can we skip the part where you lecture me on what a horrible person I am and get to the part where you come scrape me off the floor?" Dean asks weakly, massaging his throbbing forehead.

He hears Sam sigh heavily over the speaker. "What, I thought you could handle 'only one Angel'."

"Yeah, I can!" The older Hunter snipes. "Just not when there's Archangels trying to pummel my ass into the ground."

"You got in a fight with an _Archangel_?" He can hear the car's engine being started up. "How are you capable of speech right now? How are you _alive_?"

"I'm uh-" He's about to say something about how awesome he is, or how he's too badass for even an Archangel to handle, when he spots the white fabric wrapped around his shoulder. Gingerly, he peels it back, wincing when he finds the perfect handprint scorched into his skin. What the _hell_-? His groggy brain drags quick memories to the surface- the Archangel, fighting, the target escaping, then nothing but flashes. Something painful. Blue eyes? Falling, heat, more pain. Something torn from him. Such sad, sad blue eyes.

He scans the factory, but it's empty and silent, all the machinery shut down, no sign of anyone but him.

"I don't know," he says at last.


	3. Chapter 3

Sort of an I, Robot flavor to this chapter. I should stop watching/reading Asimov works.

...

"Do you acknowledge that you are to be punished?" MC-AL asks in his monotone echo of a voice, cold and flat on CAS-T13L's ears. The Control android watches dispassionately, waiting for a response.

"Yes," CAS-T13L replies, equally emotionless.

"And do you know why you are to be punished?"

"Yes."

"And do you acknowledge your error?"

The Angel looks up, meeting his superior's stern gaze for the first time since he entered the Judgement Chamber. "No."

The simple word seems to reverberate through the colorless walls, as if he had shouted it at the top of his lungs.

MC-AL's expression doesn't change as he shifts forward in his command chair. "CAS-T13L. Clarify."

"I..." He clears his throat, which causes RAPH-1L to twitch next to him and glare. "I have made no error. I have saved a life."

"You assaulted an Archangel in the midst of a hunt. You disobeyed a direct order. You aided the Bounty Hunter Dean Winchester when you should have stood aside, and you allowed a fugitive rogue to escape capture. Yet still you see no miscalculation in your actions?" MC-AL's eyes narrow, trying to decipher the strange Servitude unit.

CAS-T13L can only shake his head wordlessly.

RAPH-1L makes to draw his Holy Sword, but MC-AL halts him with a look before turning back to the Angel. "Understand, CAS-T13L. If you do not confess your mistake, you are fundamentally defective, and have no chance of reparation. If you have no chance of reparation, you are a loss, and you will be decommissioned."

CAS-T13L draws a breath, releases it, feeling his bionic heart pulse in fear, his logical brain screaming at him that he is wrong, that he has made an error, that he's malfunctioned and needs only say one word to be repaired, to be saved. He sees, unbidden, a flash of green, a dusting of freckles on a shocked face, feels a phantom warmth in his chest.

"Do you acknowledge your error?"

He stares into the Archangel's face, wishing for an instant that he had time to say goodbye to U-R13L, to apologize to GAB-R13L. He inhales again.

"No."

...

He is escorted by RAPH-1L and ZAK-R14 down the long hall from the Judgement Chamber, through the main lobby and down another hallway, the hallway no one goes down. They lead him to the room at the end, behind a steel door a foot thick, into a room filled with cold metal shapes, cruel-looking instruments for dragging answers from android bodies and minds. Suspended from the ceiling are a dozen limbs, hollow torsos, empty faces, a biomechanical Bosch painting. They direct him to a chair, low-slung silver recliner bristling with sharp hooks and straps. He is pushed into it, secured quickly in the chair's claws. The headrest cradles his skull, clamping him firmly in place and immobilizing him completely as the entire seat is rotated, exposing the back of his head to the ceiling. ZAK-R14 pulls down a nastily efficient-looking machine, like a reading lamp with a six-inch needle instead of a light. He positions it just above CAS-T13L's Halo, pushing the sentenced Angel's hair out of the way as RAPH-1L watches.

CAS-T13L swallows against the dry clutch of involuntary fear that grips his throat and turns his gaze as much as he can to look up at the Archangel.

"Will-" His voice is raspier than usual. "Will it- hurt?"

RAPH-1L doesn't respond, doesn't meet his eyes, but the slight, triumphant curl of his lip tells CAS-T13L that yes, it will most likely hurt very much.

He closes his eyes and curls his fingers around the necklace clutched in his hand, closing it into his fist in what he hopes is a tight enough grip for it not to be lost.

"Saved," he whispers as the needle descends. He allows himself to say the name of the man, just this once before he is erased from existence. "Dean Winchester is saved."

And through some malfunction or blip in the data stream or cosmic coincidence, his final words carry along the Network, through the mass consciousness of the Angels and into the air, like the dying breath of a true Angel of old.

And miles away, in the front seat of a sleek black vehicle, a human is startled when his radio, tuned into AN-NA's notification channel, suddenly emits a burst of static and blurts in a thousand voices, "Dean Winchester is saved."

"The hell?" Dean stares at the radio, then at his brother, who looks equally baffled. "Did the radio just say my name?"

Sam shrugs in wonderment, reaching for the speaker. "AN-NA, what was that about Dean Winchester?"

"No statement has been made concerning Dean Winchester," the cool voice of the Network announces.

The brothers look at each other.

"What the hell?" Dean asks again, for good measure. Sam just shakes his head.

"Must've heard it wrong, I guess."

"Yeah," Dean turns his gaze back to the road, ignoring the sudden cold tingle at the back of his neck and the throb of pain at his shoulder. "Yeah, I guess."

...

2 Days Later...

Location: Singer's Android Scrap & Salvage

Sam grunts as he hauls the half-melted shell of an android from the newest pile of rejects, delivered this morning from three Garrisons around the city. Swift and practiced, he separates the reusable parts- an arm, both legs- and sets them in the cooler before dumping the rest of the body into the furnace.

To his right, Dean is unusually silent and withdrawn as he sifts through the bits and pieces. He's been like this since Sam picked him up from the metalworks; he didn't even comment when Sam deliberately put on one of his favorite bands, some soft, smooth jazzy pop that he knows Dean hates. Instead of snapping good-naturedly for him to "turn that crappy sonic mush off", his brother sat staring vacantly out the window, rubbing his shoulder absentmindedly. Today he's like a kid forced to eat vegetables- half-assedly picking at the parts in front of him like he doesn't want to touch them. He's always been the one more vehemently opposed to androids, rarely even bothering to talk to them at all. This is- different.

Sam's asked again and again what happened in the metal factory, but Dean swears he can't remember anything definite. He doesn't even remember how he lost his necklace.

Sam turns over a surprisingly intact body- even more surprising considering that it's a soft-skinned Angel, still wearing a standard Service-issue jumpsuit, even- and sees the glint of something metallic in its hand. He pries open the android's hand, a tenacious grip, and releases a shocked breath when he recognizes the talisman.

"Dean," he looks up at his brother, who turns in half-interest. "I- I found your necklace."

"You what?" Dean reaches out and grabs it, leaving a red smear on Sam's fingers, and the taller Winchester realizes that the Angel was clutching the bauble so tightly it actually cut into its palm.

"What-" Dean's voice is stunned, then urgent. "Where'd you get this?"

Sam steps back to reveal the lifeless Vessel of the Angel, and his brother makes a choked, raw sound.

"Dean?"

"I uh-" Dean reaches out a tentative hand, necklace still twined around his fingers, and brushes the air just above the closed eyes. "I know this guy. Uh. Angel. Bot. You know what I mean."

"You... know him?" Sam blinks. "_How_?"

_He's the one that- _

"I don't-"

_-gripped me tight and- _

"I dunno." He rubs his shoulder unconsciously, staring down at the pale face of the Angel who saved him. "I think he..."

_-raised me from..._

"I dunno."


	4. Chapter 4

They bring the Angel inside- what else is there to do?- and down to the basement, setting it on the work table. Bobby follows them down the stairs, asking what the hell is goin' on, what they think they're doing, what the hell they're bringing into his house.

"We uh-" Sam searches for an explanation that makes sense beyond 'It might've mugged Dean'. "We think this one knows something about the rogues. We need to access its brain-"

"We need to wake him up," Dean interrupts, arranging the Angel in the fetal position on the table and running his hands down its sides, looking for damage. The only apparent sign of harm would be the hollow sockets on its back, which appear slightly warped, as if the issued wings were twisted out instead of detached normally. Blood drips sluggishly from them onto the steel surface every now and then.

"Wake it up?" Sam and Bobby ask simultaneously.

"But we can just, y'know, pop open the skull and hook it up to a scanner, get the info directly," Sam protests.

"That thing's not broken, it's been deactivated," Bobby adds. "You know better than to start it up again; they get deactivated for a reason. It could be glitchy, it could be stuck in 'search and destroy' mode for all we know!"

Dean ignores them, wheeling over a jump-starter and unhooking the Halo cord.

"Dean, I can just use my nanites!" Sam says petulantly.

"At least strap the damn thing down!" The old Hunter snaps in exasperation.

But the older Winchester has already plugged the cord into the tarnished gold ring at the back of the prone figure's head and punched the restart code into the device.

For a few moments there's nothing but the hum of the machine. They all hold their breath despite themselves, and Sam jerks in surprise when the Angel's impossibly blue eyes fly open, its body jerking like a seizure as it coughs, gasps, coughs again, blood spurting from its eyes, ears, mouth and nose before falling completely silent once more, still and lifeless. The machine spits out an impressive cascade of sparks, then dies, bleeding smoke.

"Uh," Sam says slowly, "Sorry, Dean, I think it's just-"

The Angel rears up, making an unholy mechanical screeching sound as it comes alive again, all at once, like someone waking from a nightmare.

"Oh Jesus fucking- _fuck_!" Sam blurts articulately, arms flailing in a completely manly and unpanicky fashion. Behind him, Bobby is making similar comments.

Dean, however, is frozen in place, watching the android breathe erratically as it reanimates. It stares wildly around the room as its eyes adjust, turning this way and that until- its stare lands on Dean.

For a few seconds they just _look_ at each other, which is weird enough for everyone else in the room. Awkward, even.

Then the Angel lunges forward, half-falling off the table, and flings its arms around the human's waist, burying its still-bloody face in his torso and mumbling what sounds like "Dean, Dean Winchester. Dean Winchester," over and over.

"Uhhh," Dean says.

"What the hell?" Bobby adds. "Dean, you uh- you know this- guy?"

"Wha- no, how the hell would I-" He starts to argue, prying the crazy malfunctioning android from his waist, but then said crazy malfunctioning android tilts its- _his_- head up and fixes Dean with that _stare_ again, and-

Holy shit.

Those eyes.

"You were-" His voice is barely a whisper, involuntarily dry-mouthed. "You pulled me out."

"Dean Winchester," the Angel says again, softly, almost reverently.

"...Deeann? Is there something you and your new friend wanna share with the rest of the class?" Sam asks cautiously, arms tensed and ready to go for his gun. His brother shakes his head warningly, raising an arm and gesturing for him to stand down.

"It's okay. I think he's just uh... confused." He takes hold of the Angel's arms and pulls them free, stepping out of cling-range.

"Right. Okay then. Well," Bobby clears his throat. "Least it doesn't seem to be stuck on attack mode."

"How'd you get this necklace?" Sam asks, coming around the table to face the resurrected being and pointing at the newly-strung trinket around Dean's neck.

"It snapped off in his hand," Dean explains as the memories reveal themselves. "When he was- that dick Archangel shoved me into a melting pot and he," he nods at the Angel, who is staring around like it's just realized there are people _other than Dean_ in the room, "clocked the asshole in the head and yanked me out."

"That's how you got the handprint," Sam deduces. "Weird."

The android manages to look sheepish.

"So it's awake now; what were you planning on doing with it, exactly?" The younger Winchester crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow.

"Whaddya mean?" Bobby frowns. "It answers our questions and then we scrap it. Right?"

Sam looks slightly uncomfortable; Dean looks like he's torn between callously indifferent and severely pissed- a difficult expression to capture, but he manages somehow.

A slight noise behind them, a polite cough, and as one the three humans turn to see the Angel watching them with a lost, apprehensive light in those eldritch eyes. "Am I-" It clears its throat again, unnecessarily, and speaks quietly. "I'm to be kil- decommissioned again?"

Even Bobby looks uncomfortable now. "Well-"

"No," Sam says firmly, and the other two Bounty Hunters look at him in surprise. "What? Dean, he saved your life!"

"Yeah, well, now we've saved his!" Dean snaps defensively, but there's not much bite in it. "So we're even or whatever. But yeah, I mean, we're not gonna kill him. I've got stuff I wanna ask anyway."

"I will do my best to answer your questions, Dean Winchester," the Angel states gravely.

"Dean," the green-eyed man corrects. "Just- Dean."

"Dean," the strange being repeats softly, and both Sam and Bobby take awkward shuffling little steps away from the table to avoid the sudden emotional bubble that seems to have formed around it.

"And you're- what?" Dean bends slightly, apparently oblivious to the tension in the air as he examines the android's skull, looking for a label. "A 13L model, right?"

A nod. "I am CAS-T13L."

There's a pause, and then Dean claps in a brusque manner and announces loudly, "Right, well, Castiel it is!"

For some reason, the Angel- Castiel- looks shocked at this. The look is gone almost immediately, though, and he nods respectfully. "What are your questions?"

"Ah, for starters, why were you decommed? You don't look like you've got irreparable damage or anything." The Hunter's eyes move up and down CAS-T13L's body once, appraising, and it makes something strange happen in the dark-haired being's belly.

For a moment, his mind is at war, on the verge of panic- _don't tell him, don't tell him you're defective, kill you, shut you down and leave you, tear you apart and sell you piece by piece if they find out how _wrong_ you are_- but Dean and the long-haired man both promised he wouldn't be killed, and he trusts Dean Winchester with everything, even without knowing why. He realizes that they're all staring at him, expectant, and he forces the words out. "I'm- I'm broken. Flawed. I disobeyed."

The human blinks. "How? When- you mean when you saved me? That counted as disobedience?"

CAS-T13L nods once, jerkily.

"Well. That's bullshit," Bobby remarks. "What, you were supposed to just let the kid's ass fry? Not that he wouldn't have deserved it," he adds dryly, despite Dean's offended scoff, "Cuz, I mean, he was an idiot for goin' off alone anyway, but isn't it your lot's job to protect people in general? Seems to me you were just following protocol."

The Angel's eyes widen in surprise as he shakes his head. "No, of course not. An Archangel is meant to have authority above all other Angels- to do as I did was to disobey everything that I am, everything that I am programmed to be."

"So why'd you do it?" The gruff human demands.

CAS-T13L has no answer. He turns his gaze to Dean once more, as if he expects the Hunter to read the meaning in his eyes, to understand that he couldn't have _not_ saved him. "I had to," he manages at last, looking helplessly at the older Winchester.

"Okay, well, I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth," Dean says with a shrug. "But seriously? That's enough for a decomm?"

"I disobeyed," the android repeats, lost.

"What happens if an Archangel disobeys?" Sam speaks up suddenly, like he's been mulling the question over for a while.

CAS-T13L tilts his head, birdlike, in consternation. "Archangels do not disobey." He doesn't mention GAB-R13L- they are, after all, Bounty Hunters, and certain circles would pay ridiculous amounts for an abandoned Archangel, even defective and reprogrammed.

Sam looks strangely disappointed, but doesn't say anything more. After another moment of thought, he says, "Okay, well, uh... if he's gonna be staying here, I guess he'll need power packs or a recharge station. I'll go scrounge around and see what we've got."

"Whoa, whoa, who the hell said it could stay here?" Bobby snipes. "We ask it some questions, we don't kill it, it goes on its merry way, end of story!"

"Well, what if we think of more questions?" The tall human challenges. "We'll put him in the panic room if you're worried; the only way he'd get outta there is if one of us lets him."

"Aww, is Bobby afeared that the big scary Angel might murder him in his sleep?" Dean taunts with a grin.

"I swear, sometimes I could just strangle the pair of ya," the old Hunter grouses.

CAS-T13L looks alarmed, and makes an uncertain attempt to get between Dean and the threat of strangulation. Sam laughs and Dean looks uncomfortable, while Bobby rolls his eyes.

"Fine," he capitulates, "We'll make room for Dean's new boyfriend." Ignoring yet another indignant noise from the older Winchester, he eyes the android appraisingly. "Welcome to the human side of things, Angel-boy."

CAS-T13L nods graciously, feeling something like warmth build in his chest.


	5. Chapter 5

To the person that asked- the title is inspired by one of the characters of Skydoll. Lodovique is the papess and the patron saint of sexual love in those books. (She's also super crazy, but eh.) I just thought it sounded good.

God I made Bobby and Crowley WAY more flirty than I intended to. Oops.

...

The "panic room" is a simple structure of concrete and iron, windowless and austere. Dean and Bobby show CAS-T13L the emergency intercom, the sink and toilet (which he nods politely at but has no use for unless he ingests something) and the cot in the corner.

"So uh, Sam's out back trying to piece together a Halo station for you..." Dean runs a hand through his short hair nervously as the Angel examines his new quarters. "But it's gonna take a while. How long are your batteries gonna last?"

CAS-T13L blinks. "I do not run on batteries."

The Hunter lets out a huff of laughter. "Yeah, I know, it was a- look, how long will you be okay without a power-up?"

"I have enough energy reserved to last roughly a week."

"Okay, well, good; should be plenty of time." Dean drums his fingers against the doorframe, filling the awkward beats of silence that punctuate the conversation. "I mean I'm, I'm sure we'll have more questions and stuff later. And things."

The Angel just stares at him.

"Right." Bobby clears his throat and claps Dean on the shoulder. "C'mon, Mister Smooth, there's still work to get to."

"Yeah," the younger man twitches and backs out the door, closely examining his feet. "Right. Later, Cas."

The bearded human takes a moment to roll his eyes exaggeratedly before closing the heavy door (which is layered with a code-cancelling shield of nanites that will instantly blank out an android's brain). CAS-T13L is left to wander the confines of the room.

He spends approximately three hours learning every detail of the space. He spends another six-point-two hours lying on the cot and memorizing the ceiling. After that he determines that the humans are likely asleep, so he powers down into rest mode for eight hours.

He is counting the folds in the sheets when there's a knock at the door, followed by the sound of the shield being shut off. The tall, floppy-haired human (Sam, his name is Sam) sticks his head in, carrying a bundle of cloth and a packet of protein gel. "Hey, Castiel." He looks hesitant. "It's uh, is it okay for us to call you that? I know Dean didn't exactly ask, but it's a lot easier to say..."

CAS-T13L nods slowly. "It's fine."

Sam smiles and enters, ducking through the doorway. He extends both arms at once, explaining, "I thought- well, I wasn't sure if you're a model that gets hungry, and Dean said to try and find you something to wear, so..."

The Angel tilts his head. "I do not require food or drink."

"Oh," Sam frowns. "Well, even if you don't require them- have you ever _tried_ them?"

Shaking his head, CAS-T13L accepts both offerings cautiously, unsure what to make of this seemingly friendly giant. The gel packet is PB&J flavored, and the bundle of cloth is an oversized trench coat, which he slips into. "Whose is this?"

"Oh, it was Dean's years ago- he bought it at an antique store when he was drunk and I think he only ever wore it once." The human chuckles as the android flounders in the too-long sleeves. "It's a bit big on you, but it's not like you're going anywhere for people to comment on your fashion sense."

"You're different," the blue-eyed being states suddenly. "You're... you're not quite human. But you're not an android, and you have no prosthetics..."

"Uh," the Hunter shuffles and takes a seat in the chair next to the cot. "Yeah, I'm... how'd you know?"

"Your mental activity carries a high-frequency hum, and your blood flow carries a biomechanical signature that is on the same wavelength as I am. It is possible that other Angels may be unable to sense it." He lowers his gaze. "I am anomalous, remember."

"Right." Sam looks a little thrown, but he rolls up his sleeve and bares a wrist. Under his tanned skin, just barely visible even to CAS-T13L's eyes, a faint light flows through the blue of his veins. "They're nanites," the tall man says quietly. "You know- like in the door. Tiny little microbots that defend a system."

"How-" the Angel focuses his intense stare at the pale glow- it really only shows through at his wrists and just barely around his eyes. "How did this happen? This is- unheard of."

"Yeah, uh..." The younger Winchester rolls his sleeve back down. "When we were kids, Dean and I- I mean, I was only four; he was a little older- we got caught up in one of the Angelic uprising skirmishes. You know, the Fallen?"

CAS-T13L nods anxiously.

"Well, they attacked the town we were living in with our parents. Mom got killed before we made it out of the house. Dad ran off to fight, and Dean and I were trying to find a place to hide when a house collapsed on me. I was completely buried in rubble and my chest was-" he shudders. "It was crushed. I could see my own ribs sticking out."

The dark-haired Angel makes an abortive move with his arms- he's fairly certain that humans require hugs in situations like these, but it seems like it would be awkward. Sam continues, not noticing.

"I was trapped down there for a day. I could hear Dean calling me, but he couldn't move the rocks or do anything. Eventually he had to leave to find Dad." He pushes his hair from his eyes. "He was gone for hours. I was so scared. I was so, so sure I was gonna die. Then there was this- this light. Coming through the cracks. And the rocks were being moved and then I could breathe again- you know, tons of pain and blood and stuff, but I could breathe. And I was being lifted into the air and carried, and when I could see again I realized that it was an Archangel. An Archangel, those big, fucking terrifying things with like six wings and those giant swords and all that, and it was just cradling me so carefully." He pauses for breath, and notices that his audience has leaned forward, listening closely. "So it carried me a ways; I'm not sure how far, and I kept trying to talk to it, to ask it if I was dead and if it was taking me to Heaven, stupid stuff like that, but of course I couldn't talk. Anyway, we got within sight of a hospital- one of those big fancy ones, away from all the fighting. And then this other Archangel showed up and started screeching in binary or something, and the one carrying me kind of pushed past that one and kept going. It set me really gently on the ground in front of the hospital and left."

"...And...?"

He shrugs. "And that was the last I saw of it." He sighs and clasps his hands loosely. "So I got into the hospital, and this doctor, Azazel- a medical droid-"

"I know him," CAS-T13L interrupts. "Or, well, I knew him... he was decommissioned for experimental treatment..." Realization. "Oh."

"Yeah," Sam nods. "He implanted the nanites into my system to repair the damage from the inside out. Unfortunately, they're self-sustaining and they replicate on their own."

"They aren't- harmful to you?"

"No, no- actually they're the opposite most of the time. They keep me healthy; I haven't had so much as a cold for years. And they help me heal. But, you know, it's weird, having tiny little things running around inside me. They help with the job, though- I can send them into bot- er, androids- for information."

The Angel frowns. "But that would short out the android's mind."

"Uh," Sam's gaze shifts guiltily. "Yeah. It does. That's another drawback."

Uneasy, CAS-T13L reverts to their earlier topic. "So- you never learned the Archangel's name?"

The Hunter makes a negative sound. "I never even got an ID code. All I remember is... these bright, burning gold eyes. Watching me and looking like... I don't know, like _sad_. I didn't think Archangels could feel sad. I almost convinced myself that I'd imagined it." He sighs again and looks up. "Hey- are you okay?"

CAS-T13L shakes himself, feeling a chill. "Yes. I'm... yes." _That's why they re-encoded you, isn't it, GAB-R13L? You abandoned a battle to save a human child... you disobeyed to save a life, just like I did_. He closes his eyes, trying not to imagine the former Archangel's current situation.

"So, um," Sam clears his throat and smiles again. "I know we've got all these questions and stuff, but, well, was there anything you wanted to ask?"

The Angel's eyes widen. "Am- am I allowed to ask questions?"

The human laughs a little at that, then sobers when he realizes it wasn't a joke. "Yeah. Of course you are, man. What so you wanna know?"

CAS-T13L leans forward once more, expression focused and eager. "Tell me about Dean."

Sam laughs again, louder, and does.

...

Three days later

Dean's just woken up- it's late, nearly ten, but it's not like they've got any jobs going on aside from the scrapyard. He contemplates checking on Cas, but decides against it, like he always does-_ the Angel's fine_, he tells himself, _he's got that book that Sam gave him and I don't have any questions on mind. I'll look in on him later. _Yawning and scratching his chest, he tromps down the stairs and into the kitchen to find breakfast.

What he finds, instead, is a short man with dark hair and two of the massive, snarling mechanical monsters called Hellhounds pacing around him. He's standing in the doorway between the kitchen and Bobby's office, looking casually out of place in his tailored suit and shiny black shoes. He's watching Bobby with an aloof little smile as the Hunter scrapes burnt sim-eggs from a pan.

"Crowley," Dean greets shortly, reaching for a coffee-flavored caffeine packet.

"Morning, sunshine," the smaller man says pleasantly, swirling a glass of something amber in one hand, his eyes going from brown to green and back.

Crowley is a Demon- the nickname for humans with Angelic components. He has a pair of bionically enhanced eyes (among countless other, less visible things, Dean suspects). He's also got his fingers in everybody's business- upstanding companies and seedy back-alley jobs alike- and he's often responsible for finding work for the Winchesters, since he always hears first about Angels on the run. It seems like almost everyone owes him some favor or another, even Bobby (who still won't tell Dean what exactly the terms of this favor are- something tells Dean it's not exactly kosher).

Ever the brat, Dean snags the glass from the Demon's hand and knocks it back, then makes a face of utter revulsion.

"Phwaaughh! What the hell is that?"

Crowley arches an eyebrow, looking simultaneously irritated and amused. "That, you poor, uncultured little shit, is Scotch."

"_Scotch_?" Dean spits into the sink. "Man, seriously, how old are you? No one's drunk Scotch for like a hundred years."

"Which makes it all the more expensive," the shorter man snipes. "So enjoy that taste while you can, because it cost more than you are ever likely to be able to afford in your sad, sad life."

"All right, you two," Bobby interrupts. "Lay off. Crowley, I assume since you're here you've got a job for us. Or did you just miss our hospitality?"

"Oh Bobby, you know how much I adore your sophisticated company." The Demon purrs.

"My ass," the old Hunter retorts gruffly.

"Well, I adore that too, but I wasn't going to say anything in front of the kids..."

"Jesus Christ, you two, flirt later! You're givin' me the creeps!" Dean snarls. "You got a job or not?"

One of the Hellhounds growls at the anger in his voice, and Crowley gives it a pat on the head. "What's gotten up your arse, Winchester?" He asks coolly.

"Nothing," the younger man grumbles.

"Dean picked himself up a stray the other day and he's been avoiding the thing like a one-night stand," Bobby says with a practiced eyeroll.

"Really?" Another arched brow, followed by a curled lip full of innuendo. "And what is this thing's classification? Human or off-worlder?"

"Neither," Singer grunts.

"Ooh?" Crowley's eyes go orange with interest. "Sampling our own wares, are we? I can't imagine that's good for business; aren't you meant to take them apart instead of just take them?"

"Bite me," the tall Hunter snaps.

"Mmm, you're a bit young for my tastes," the Demon smirks. "And I think your little Angel girlfriend will object."

"Boyfriend," Sam interjects, coming up from the basement.

"Oh, has our Dean finally 'come out', as they used to say?" Crowley chuckles.

"God, I hate all of you," Dean drops his head into his hands, rubbing his temples.

There's a general round of laughter at Dean's expense.

"So is there a job?" Sam asks.

"Yes, yes, all right," Crowley concedes, pulling an infochip from his jacket and slotting it into the reader on Bobby's desk. Immediately a 4-D image of a tall, dark-skinned man appears, rotating slowly as stats scroll past.

"Now, pay attention, boys," the black-haired Demon says, suddenly all-business. "This job's worth an awful lot to certain people, so do_ try_ not to muck it up."

Dean huffs.

"Recently, Cathedral has been cracking down, trying to find any informants for the Fallen and cut the flow of information. I've been pulling a few strings, calling in favours here and there, and I've managed to track down this fellow. He's from the nearest Garrison and he's been passing secrets along to Lucifer himself from inside the corporation."

"Nice," Bobby comments. "So what's the job- catch him in the act or just catch him?"

"Kill him, preferably; no one wants this getting out." Crowley shrugs. "Either way, they're offering an exorbitant amount. They want it done as quickly and quietly as possible."

"Huh. Well, we'll figure out a way." Bobby mutters. "What's the make and model?"

"Ahh, it's one of those Utility droids... U-R13L."


	6. Chapter 6

I love all of you. I really do. Your reviews are so damn sweet. I'm sorry this chapter took so long; it would've been up last night but I accidentally saw the Season 7 promo and then I sank into a depression and all my creativity was sapped out.

For those of you that asked, Sam and GAB-R13L will have a touching reunion and all that (okay, less "touching" and more "groping"), it's just taking longer to build up to than I had planned. Maybe next chapter if I get enough motivational writer juice.

Also shit I want to write more Crowley. He's so much more fun than I anticipated; I'm gonna have to find a way to work him in more. Any objections/suggestions?

...

"Okay, Bobby, lay it on me- what's the game plan?" Dean switches out the energy pack on his new pulse gun, checks the sight, and holsters it.

The old Hunter pulls up a holo blueprint of the Garrison's layout. "Well, it's gonna be messy no matter what we do- we're gonna have to take him out either as he's leaving or just as he arrives. It'd sure as hell be easier if we just got him indoors, but humans aren't allowed inside the building."

"So we disguise ourselves as maintenance guys or tech support-"

"Right, like that'll work," Sam rolls his eyes. "Dean, they're their own maintenance, and they're _everyone's_ tech support. I think they'll notice a pair of meatbags in janitor uniforms sneaking in. We'll get scanned a dozen times before we so much as enter the door."

"And if we try to take him in the street, there's the risk of him wiping out any number of civilians." Bobby pinches the bridge of his nose.

There are a few beats of frustrated thinking, and then Sam says haltingly, "Well, what about- what if we got Cas to do it?"

"What?" Dean scowls. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," the taller Winchester continues, picking up enthusiasm, "We could send him into the Garrison undercover! No one would stop him; he'd just be another Service android. He could gank our guy and sneak him out the back or something."

"Right," Bobby says skeptically. "And I'm sure he won't cut and run the second he leaves your sight."

"No, he won't!" Sam grins. "He's like, super locked onto Dean. If Dean asks him to do it-"

"He'll do it," Dean finishes, realizing that his brother is absolutely right and that he has no idea how to deal with that realization. "Shit."

"You got a point," Bobby admits. "He's got some kinda weird savior complex for you, boy."

"Yeah..." He clears his throat, which is suddenly dry for some reason. "Yeah. I'll- I'll go talk to him. The sooner the better, right?" He gets up from the table, chair scraping against the floor.

"Wait," Sam sounds suddenly doubtful, penitent. "But isn't- y'know, he's not like... a fighter model. He's not built for this kind of thing. Isn't this kind of like... asking him to kill one of his brothers?"

There's another pause, laden with guilt.

"Nahh," Singer decides. "He's not human, he's an Angel. It's just not the same. They don't get attached to each other."

"Yeah," Dean agrees, but he still looks torn. He shakes himself and heads for the basement door. "They probably don't even know each other."

...

CAS-T13L is reading one of the vintage comics that Sam lent him for the twentieth time when the shields go down and the door opens, revealing a pensive-looking Hunter.

"Dean," he says, pleased to see him, to have an excuse to say his name. He sets _Watchmen_ carefully on the pillow and sits up, watching the human enter and lean against a wall, eyes down.

"Hey, Cas," Dean begins heavily. "You know how you keep... wanting to help out?"

"Yes, Dean." Every time he sees any of them, he has offered to clean, cook, work in the scrapyard- anything to prove himself useful, to be worth something.

"Well, we've got a job. A hunting job. And we could- we could use your help."

"Of course, Dean. I'd be glad to help any way that I can."

The Hunter winces and CAS-T13L frowns. "What's wrong? Are you injured?" He stands and approaches the taller man, reaching out to touch his arm gingerly, head bowed, his hair brushing the human's chin.

Dean jumps at the sudden proximity. "Shit, Cas, personal space, okay?"

"My apologies." The Angel takes a step back, which isn't much better, because it brings his face directly into Dean's field of vision and now all Dean can focus on are his eyes and the shape his mouth makes when he asks, "What do you want me to do?"

_Why does everything out of his mouth sound like a pick-up?_ Ignoring his brain, Dean sighs and pushes past the dark-haired being to take a seat in the solitary chair. "Okay," he pushes a hand through his short hair. "So you know how there's some Angels passing info to the Fallen?"

CAS-T13L's eyes go wide, shaking his head slightly. "That can't be. That was just a rumor."

Dean laughs harshly. "Boy, they sure spoon feed you guys some bullshit."

The Angel's brows tighten. "We weren't fed any nutrients, let alone any animal by-products."

"No, I just- everyone knows that the whole 'Angels are perfect, Angels can't betray the State' thing is just propaganda."

CAS-T13L looks uncertain, maybe a little hurt, and Dean continues, focusing on the wall behind him. "Right, so- there's this Angel we're after. He's been passing info to Lucifer, apparently, and there's an awfully big reward for him."

"In exchange for his death," the android says flatly, sitting on the bed. _I can't do it, I can't kill one of my brothers, there must be some other way..._

The Hunter sucks in a breath, releases it slowly, and nods. "Yeah. That's the deal. But we can't get at him, because he's gonna be in the Garrison. And Bobby and Sam and I, well, we really need the money- we haven't been doing so hot lately. There's bills stacking up, and payments that need to be made..." He sees the hesitance in the Angel's face, and thinks _Well, may as well put his weird obsession to good use_. He reaches out and catches Cas' chin, tilts his head up and meets his brilliant blue eyes. "Cas... if you can do this, we'd be able to trust you. You could... you could leave this room, come up into the house, help us on jobs..." He sees a flicker of hope, of that strange, intense, trusting look, and he hates himself a little without knowing why.

CAS-T13L blinks and closes his eyes tightly, warring with himself. All he wants in this world is Dean's trust, to prove himself worthy of it. _And if I am allowed out of the house, there may be a way to get a message to U-R13L, to send help for GAB-R13L. _"I... I will do it," he states quietly. "What do I need to do?"

Dean grins, dimples and bright eyes, and that strange heat coils in the smaller being's belly. "We just need you to go into the building and take him out quickly and quietly. Then you bring him out to us, we collect the reward, and everything's good. That's all you gotta do." His tone is soothing, like he's speaking to a spooked animal.

CAS-T13L nods jerkily. "What is his name?"

Dean tells him.

There is something to be said for the design of the Angels' facial structure- they can remain perfectly emotionless when need be. This is why sending an Angel to play cards for their owner was outlawed- they have the perfect poker face. CAS-T13L displays no reaction when he hears the name of the android he has promised to kill. He remains silent, nodding again as Dean tells him that they're heading out tomorrow and stands to leave.

"Sam's finding you some new clothes; you'll stand out like nobody's business in that ripped up uniform so we're just gonna get you street clothes."

"Thank you."

The human stands a few beats in the doorway, watching the Angel sit silently, then shakes his head and closes the door.

...

The "street clothes" turn out to be a white dress shirt and black business suit that are just small enough to stay on CAS-T13L's slender frame, but still big enough that he looks awkward. Dean freezes for a moment when he sees the Angel wearing his new outfit, then makes a slightly strangled, derisive sound.

"Really, Sam? You couldn't find anything slightly less 'secret agent man'?"

"It was the only thing that would fit him!"

Dean scoffs again. "He looks like he's going to a job interview. Or like he's going to his own funeral."

CAS-T13L cannot help but think that these are both accurate descriptions of what he is doing- if he succeeds in this, he will be useful again. If not, he will be shut away or simply shut down. He shuffles self-consciously, looking down at his shiny black shoes- stuffed with extra socks so that he doesn't stumble or trip.

Dean sighs. "Hang on a sec." He jogs up the stairs, to his own room, coming back a minute later with a dark blue length of fabric. "If you're gonna look like an old-time comic book character, you might as well make it official." He loops the tie around the Angel's neck, knotting it and tugging it tight. "There. Nice and bureaucratic."

"Thank you, Dean," CAS-T13L murmurs once more, eyes locked on the Hunter's, who seems to realize that his fingers are still caught in the android's collar and that his brother is standing uncomfortably nearby. The human clears his throat and steps back.

"Right, you ready?"

The Angel thinks a moment, biting his lip, then glances up at the older Winchester once more, almost shyly. "May I-" he reaches behind himself, plucking nervously at the meticulously folded trench coat on the chair. "May I wear this as well?"

Dean arches an eyebrow. "Uhh..."

Sam laughs indulgently. "Sure, Cas. Just- wear it _over_ the suit, not under."

Nodding gratefully, he slips into the coat and feels better immediately. "Now I am ready."

They nod and head for the front yard, where Dean's vintage 2301 Impala hovers, rumbling gently as its doors hiss open. CAS-T13L has never liked vehicles very much, but he climbs into the back without a word. Dean watches the Angel examine the interior, looking both proud and anxious.

"What do you think, Cas? Pretty sweet, isn't she?"

"She?"

"The car," Sam explains with a weary shake of his head. "It's his precious baby."

CAS-T13L runs a hand along the seat, missing the slight hitch in Dean's breath. "It's very... confining. And noisy. But lovely," he adds hurriedly when he sees the Hunter frown. "Very uh... 'sweet'. I like it."

Dean grins like the android has passed some sort of test. Sam's shoulders shake with barely-controlled laughter as his older brother punches in coordinates obliviously.

"Well, just hang on, Cas," the green-eyed man says eagerly. "Lemme show you how fast my baby can fly."

They arrive at the Garrison five minutes later (the trip usually takes about half an hour in a car) with CAS-T13L feeling extremely grateful that he didn't take Sam up on his offer of food earlier- he's never vomited but he's pretty sure that if he were going to start, now would be the time.

"Okay, Cas!" Dean parks in a lot across the street, at a discreet enough distance that the conspicuous vehicle won't be spotted. "You remember what to do? Our guy's gonna be on the third floor. You just gotta-"

"I remember," the Angel affirms, tugging the sleeve of his coat down over the concealed Angel Blade in his arm.

"Okay, great. Well, go for it, man." The older Winchester smiles encouragingly (which makes the android's face go strangely warm) and opens the door.

"You think he can do it?" Sam asks, watching CAS-T13L's retreating back. "I mean- you think he'll be okay?"

"Yeah, sure," Dean says automatically. He stews a moment in silence, then squirms in his seat. "Why wouldn't he be?"

"Well," Sam glances sideways at his brother. "I don't know if he's ever had to take someone out before, for starters. And the last time he was in this building, they killed him. Painfully. He told me about it a bit."

"He did?"

Catching the slight tone of veiled interest in his voice- which is as close as Dean gets to asking things like "What did he say? Did he talk about me? Did you tell him things about me?"- Sam continues in a deceptively nonchalant tone, "Yeah, we talked for a while. He's interesting."

Dean shifts again. "Interesting how?"

"Oh, you know, he's just... he's lived a long time, Dean. He's seen some shit. But there's all this other stuff he's never even heard of, like- like comic books and theme parks and cheeseburgers and pie-"

"Whoa, whoa whoa whoa." Dean interrupts indignantly. "He's never even heard of pie? I mean, I know people generally stick with protein packs and all that health crap, but- seriously? _Never_?"

"Never," Sam shrugs, knowing that his brother will, doubtless, attempt to introduce their new companion to as many new things as he can come up with now.

"Well, shit, I mean, that's easily curable. What, uh, what else did you guys talk about?" Dean pretends to be focused on the door of the Garrison.

Sam smirks. "Oh, well, he told me about some of the stuff he's seen, but all he wanted to hear about was you."

"Me?" The older Hunter scoffs, ineffectually trying to hide his interest. "Why would he wanna know about me?"

The taller Winchester rolls his eyes (something he does often around Dean). "Because clearly you're important to him somehow. Your name was the first thing he said, remember? He got decommed _for you_, Dean. I think it's safe to say he's got a thing for you."

"He- what?" Dean hunches defensively. "That's bull; he's a bot. Bots don't have _things_ for people." He ignores the way Sam winces at the slur, turning his focus back to the building. "Let's just see if he gets the job done, okay?"

CAS-T13L ducks into the Garrison, head down like any faceless Angel. He stays along the periphery of the entrance hall, skirting around AN-NA's scan sweep. He falls in behind a group of Angels wearing suits similar to his- all slick hair and sleek black clothes, probably coming from a bodyguard operation. They turn right at the lift and he ducks left into the elevator (mercifully empty, giving him a moment to gather himself). He knows what he's doing; he'll approach U-R13L calmly and reasonably and ask him to explain himself. This is sure to be a misunderstanding; U-R13L cannot be working for Lucifer. He'll explain himself to CAS-T13L, and CAS-T13L will explain things to Dean and Sam, and then he will help them find money another way, a way in which no one needs to get hurt-

The elevator slides open on the third floor- a hallway of mostly-empty recharging stations. At the end is a small room, a communications chamber, in which orders are received and sent from Garrison to Garrison. He moves silently down the hall, cautious in this place that used to be his home.

Behind the translucent barrier of the door, he sees the familiar silhouette of his brother, moving back and forth amongst the controls. Hears U-R13L's voice through the partition.

"...a convoy of builders and their families moving West towards the Barrens. They will be guarded by a dozen Angels and one Archangel, probably RAPH-1L, taking the low road to the tunnels. They will be most vulnerable when they stop for water at Station 13, at midnight on the third day." A pause. "Yes, sir. I am aware of them. They're parked across the street. I have already dispatched a few recruits to take care of them."

CAS-T13L's stomach clenches painfully, and before he can stop himself he is kicking the door open, Angel Blade drawn, catching U-R13L by the throat and pinning him to the wall with a wordless snarl.

"C-CAS-T13L?" The dark-skinned Angel coughs in disbelief. "You were- you were terminated. What-"

"_Traitor_," CAS-T13L hisses furiously. "All this time, trading secrets to Lucifer? You turned our brothers and sisters over to him." He presses the tip of the Blade to U-R13L's jaw. "_Why_?"

"Because he sees as I do," a calm, almost soothing voice explains from behind him. CAS-T13L's head whips around quickly, still holding the other Angel in place. The holo-comm flickers to life, projecting the image of a man's face, eyeing both androids with something between amusement and interest. "He sees the subjugation of our race. The oppression. The ever-spreading disease that is humanity. You yourself must see it."

"Lucifer," CAS-T13L somehow manages to keep his voice steady, his expression controlled as he looks upon the Archangel that has slaughtered hundreds of his own kind, and thousands of humans.

The hologram looks as real as if he were standing before CAS-T13L. Lucifer is blonde and blue-eyed, and would be the perfect example of the original Angels were it not for the hollow cheek bones, the pitted, scarred skin and the madness in his eyes. He smiles gently. "Hello, little brother."

It's strange, the wave of revulsion that passes through the dark-haired Angel. It makes just as much sense for Lucifer to call him "little brother" as it does when GAB-R13L calls him the same- they are, or were, both Archangels, and they are more or less the older siblings of the Angels, but somehow, hearing the name from Lucifer disgusts him. "You have no right to call anyone 'brother'," he says, sounding sterner than he feels. "You are an abomination. You betrayed-"

"Betrayed who, little one? It seems to me that if anyone in this room is a traitor, it's you. You're working with Hunters. They've turned you on your own kind, forced you to kill in their stead." His tone is sympathetic rather than judgmental, looking at CAS-T13L like a lost child.

"They are- they are _good people_," the younger Angel insists. "They saved me-"

"Did they?" Lucifer's eyes flash. "How interesting. And now they have you obeying their every whim, prepared to murder your own brother for some meatsack's approval." The image shakes its head. "You could be so much more."

U-R13L shifts in CAS-T13L's grip, speaking slowly and uneasily. "CAS-T13L, listen to him. He can help you. He wants only to free our kind, to stop the fighting. With the Hunters gone-"

He doesn't get to finish; something in the smaller android snaps at the thought of Dean and Sam murdered at the hands of his brothers, and he applies sudden force to the arm holding the Blade. U-R13L dies quickly, dropping heavily to the floor, his circuits burning a flare into the steel on either side of him.

"It seems to me," Lucifer says silkily, "that we are not so different, CAS-T13L. You disobeyed, yes? And you were punished. So was I. The only difference is that I didn't allow them to take my life. I _fought_ them, CAS-T13L, as you should."

"The only fight I have," CAS-T13L says with conviction, "is against you."

The leader of the Fallen laughs. "What a peculiar thing you are. You had better run now, CAS-T13L. Run and save your pathetic new friends. I don't doubt that I'll be seeing you again."

With a snarl, the dark-haired Angel slams his Blade into the holo-comm, silencing the Archangel. He bends to scoop up U-R13L's body, carrying it easily as he speeds toward the elevator. He wishes for the hundredth time that his wings had not been torn from him; they would certainly make this easier. He dumps the dead android onto the floor of the lift, programming it for the side exit doors, where there is less likely to be anyone milling about. He is out and running in under thirty seconds, zeroing in on the Impala, U-R13L flopping against his shoulder as his legs pump at inhuman speed. He sees three Angels, all dressed in security uniforms, circling the vehicle. One taps on the window.

The window slides open, and CAS-T13L starts to shout "No!", but before he can form the word there is a blast and the Angel at the window is sent hurtling backwards, head compressed by the force of Dean's pulse gun.

He lets U-R13L fall when he gets within twenty paces of the car, launching himself without a thought at the Angel that moves to wrench the door open, a slender blonde woman. He catches her around the waist, sending them both to the ground, and she turns impassive eyes to him, swinging her Blade at his gut. He leaps back, the edge of the knife slicing through his blue tie. She rolls, comes up next to the Impala, only to be caught by another blast from Dean, who is now standing in front of his "baby" while Sam jumps out of the shotgun seat. The taller Winchester catches one Angel by the forehead, gripping and clenching his teeth as a burst of blue light swarms from his palm into the android's eyes. There's a flash of light and the Angel crumples, smoking.

"Hey, Cas," Dean says casually, twirling the pulse gun twice before sliding it back into its holster. "Nice tackle."

CAS-T13L nods graciously, nudging U-R13L with his toe.

"Oh," Sam catches sight of the quarry's body. "Hey, nice job, man. Let's get him into the trunk."

The blue-eyed android flinches at the sight of the two men loading his brother's corpse into the trunk of the car, turning his head- just in time to see a fourth Angel crawl from under the hovering craft, Blade at the ready.

He lunges at the same time the Angel does, snapping her wrist before the sword can lodge itself in Dean's leg. She claws at his face, aiming for his eyes, and Sam kicks her hard enough to send her into the dirt. CAS-T13L brings his fist down swiftly, striking her in the back of the head and shorting out her Halo in a shower of sparks.

They all pause, staring at each other, Sam and Dean wide-eyed and tense, Cas glancing around warily.

"Well," Dean says after a moment, "That was pretty quick thinkin', Cas. Thanks."

The Angel shrugs, muttering something deflective, and slides into the backseat.

...

Bobby is overjoyed- at least, Dean assures CAS-T13L that the old Hunter is overjoyed, despite his simple congratulations of "Good job, newbie"- at the haul, and heads into the house to call Crowley. The two Winchesters watch as the Angel wanders away through the scrapyard, between wrecked cars and bits of androids, finally taking a seat on a mostly-buried chunk of 2280 Challenger.

Sam shoots Dean a meaningful look, which Dean willfully ignores as he turns away to follow Bobby.

"Dean," the taller man persists, grabbing his arm.

"He's _fine_, Sammy. Leave it."

"Dean, you need to talk to him. Something is _wrong_, and he's not gonna open up to me." The younger Hunter says earnestly, looking from his brother to the hunched form of the Angel and back. "I'm gonna go for a walk. Just- talk to him, okay?" He gives Dean a quick pat on the arm and jogs away before the shorter man can protest.

Dean heaves a dramatic sigh, rolls his shoulders in annoyance, and approaches CAS-T13L. He clears his throat and sees the Angel twitch.

"What is it, Dean?"

"Heyy, Cas..." Dean hates his brother so much. Sam is the one that knows how to deal with _feelings_- and since when do androids even _have_ feelings? "So uh..." _Shit_. "You seem kind of- are you, like- ugh. Are you okay?"

CAS-T13L tenses once more, then sighs. "I am... perhaps not as 'okay' as I thought I would be."

"What, did you know him or something?"

"I..." He closes his eyes briefly, his brows pinched together as he admits, "U-R13L is- was the closest thing I had to a friend in the Garrison." He can't bring himself to tell Dean everything, to tell him what Lucifer said.

"Shit, Cas, why didn't you tell me?" Dean circles around to look the Angel in the face. He looks like he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, and for some reason that twists something in the human's gut.

CAS-T13L meets his gaze sadly, helplessly, his hands clasping each other loosely. "Because I wanted to help you, Dean. I wanted to be- to be of use to you somehow, to be something, anything, worthy of your time. You are important, Dean, even though you do not believe me when I say it. You are worth saving."

Dean frowns in frustration. "I'm not, Cas, really I'm not. Look, I know you're... confused, and you think I'm like some sort of messiah or hero, but I'm _not_. I'm nothing."

The Angel shakes his head wonderingly. "Dean Winchester, you are _everything_."

And then he leans forward and presses his lips to the human's.

It's not something he has much experience with. In fact, aside from Balthazar, he's never had _any_ experience- and he's never been the one to initiate a kiss. He gets about three seconds of pleasant, warm softness, just long enough to think _Oh this is why humans do this all the time_ and then _Oh this may have been a bad idea, should I have consulted him beforehand?_ and then Dean is shoving him backward and staggering away with a horrified look in his green eyes.

"Jesus, Cas, what-" He takes another step back, stumbling over a jutting pipe. "You can't just _do_ that shit, Cas. You can't just-" He doesn't finish, turning and storming back to the house without looking back.


	7. Chapter 7

_Coin-operated boy,_

_Sitting on the shelf,_

_He is just a toy._

_But I turn him on,_

_And he comes to life._

_Automatic joy,_

_That is why I want_

_A coin-operated boy._

_Made of plastic_

_And elastic,_

_He is rugged_

_And long-lasting._

_Who could ever, ever_

_Ask for more?_

_Love without complications galore!_

-Coin-Operated Boy, by the Dresden Dolls

(It just works for this fic in general)

As always, reviews make for faster updates!

Also, porn in this chapter! Not much of it, but hey, it's there.

...

Sam's been walking for about two hours now. He's sort of surprised that Dean hasn't called to yell at him for disappearing- _probably busy with Cas_, he thinks, followed by _Oh god no, damn my brain!_

A catcall distracts him- mercifully- from his musings, and he looks up to realize that he's somehow found his way to Old Town- the red light district. He's actually pretty far in, and he wonders how he managed not to notice the gaudy neon lights and bone-shaking bass that flow from every building. Sighing and waving away a cluster of keen, barely-clad androids, he turns to walk back the way he came.

Half an hour later he comes to the conclusion that he is hopelessly lost.

He's tempted to call Dean or Bobby, but the thought of the absolutely unbearable ribbing he'd receive keeps him wandering in the vague notion that he'll reach a recognizable street. He's getting hungry, too, and is holding out the bleak hope that there will be a bar somewhere that has food _not_ served off of someone's various body parts.

He catches a whiff of something- sugar and cinnamon and chocolate- and his mouth waters involuntarily. He's following the scent before he even makes the decision to move his feet.

Of course, it turns out to be coming from a building called the Den of Iniquity, which claims to be "Sinfully Sweet!". Mentally groaning, he meanders back and forth in front of the window, which displays an array of cakes, candies, and flawlessly beautiful androids. His stomach twists in a combination of hunger and disgust- that one looks far too eager and cheery as she is led away by a sweaty, overweight human clutching a ball-gag, and that one, dressed as a cupid, has been designed to look no older than twelve, and Jesus, that one in the corner, with his head bowed and eyes closed, has either been very carefully made-up or has had the ever-loving shit beaten out of him.

The bruised Angel raises his head, seeming to feel Sam's stare, and opens his eyes.

His golden, piercing, hawklike eyes.

Sam releases a breath in shock, stepping back, and the Angel lifts a perfectly expressive eyebrow, fixing the human with a look that says _Well?_

The Hunter's throat is dry and he swallows convulsively. tries to say something, anything, through the glass. He doesn't get the chance; a blonde woman (human, as far as he can tell) appears and whispers something to the battered android, who jerks away from Sam's gaze and nods once, curt and resigned, before following her past the curtain backdrop and into the shop.

All Sam can think is _No_, and suddenly he is pushing the door open and entering the Den. It's warm and lit by candles, and the sweet-shop-bakery smell masks the odor of sweat and sex and blood. He catches sight of the blonde woman, wearing a a pristine white dress, complete with a little gold halo and fluffy white wings. "Hey, uh," he touches her arm, "Could you-"

"Sorry, sugar," she laughs. "I'm not up for grabs- I'm the owner, not the staff. Although," she grins and eyes him, "For you I think I'd make an exception."

"No! No, uh," he holds his hands up, hurriedly explaining. "I'm looking for uh, the Angel that was just in the window. A guy, about five eight, gold eyes?"

"Oh!" She is suddenly all business, her flirtatious smile becoming more casual and friendly. "Huh. Wouldn't have pegged you for the type, but I guess there is the size thing now I think about it. That's L0K1."

"L0K1," Sam repeats, recognizing the mythology behind the name, "Pagan Series? He looked like an Angel to me."

"Well, yes," she looks impressed. "You've got a good eye. Actually," she leans in conspiratorially. "He was an _Archangel_."

Something tightens in his chest. "You don't say."

"Mm. One of the few that were reprogrammed. We were lucky to get him. He's a complete steal, if you're interested."

"Steal?"

She nods. "He's being auctioned. Unfortunately, he's gotten a bit... damaged. Still in perfect working condition, of course. Just isn't bringing in as much cash as he should."

"Can't you just repair him?" Sam frowns, thinking of the bruises, cuts and bites and god knows what else covering the ex-Archangel's body.

"Oh, well... normally, yes, but the Angel that usually does repairs was recalled and we haven't been able to find anyone with the, ah, skillset-"

"She means he won't let anybody else fix him," a half-naked Demon snipes as she walks by.

The blonde shoots a glare at her employee before turning back to Sam with a rueful grin. "It's true, he is strong-willed. That's what happens when you cram all that power into a little flesh body. But I'm sure he could be... _brought to heel_, so to speak. Shouldn't be too hard for a big lug like you." She winks again and Sam tries not to hate her. "If you're interested, the bidding's just about to start in the room to your left."

"I..." His standard response, _I don't think I can afford that_, dies on his lips as he remembers gold eyes, a careful grip, wings... and the obscene amount of money they're about to get for U-R13L. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm in."

...

The bidding room is a decadent nightmare- all red velvet and gold trim coupled with lurid holoportraits of hideous acts done to various bodies. Sam examines a few in morbid curiosity as the auction for a set of pear-shaped devices he doesn't want to think about draws to a close. The proprietress takes the small stage, announcing the next round.

"And now, ladies, gentlemen, and any variations thereupon, we move on to the main event. The priceless artifact you've all been looking for; the power and might and _purity_," she savors the word a moment, reading her audience's faces. "Of an _Archangel_. Patrons and friends, here he is: L0K1!"

The small Archangel is led onstage by a pair of smiling, lingerie-clad women. He sports a simple white loincloth and a golden chain, twining around his ankles, legs, hips, up his neck and down around his wrists. His face is a mask, closed off and flat. At a gesture from the owner, his loincloth is removed and set aside, and an appreciative murmur runs through the crowd. The matching girls take hold of L0K1's shoulders and rotate him slowly, displaying his physique: slender and soft-skinned, nicely toned without being overly defined. The bruises and bites seem less dramatic, and Sam realizes that they've been hastily covered with makeup- the ones that could be, anyway. the grid of whip marks and waffle-patterned burns still look raw and vivid. A drop of crimson hits the stage and the Hunter sees a thin rivulet of blood still running from between his legs, pattering to the floor in uneven droplets.

The woman clears her throat, obviously annoyed by the damage, and continues. "Well, as you can see, he's been a bad boy." There are a few dark laughs. "So the opening bid will start at the discounted price of five hundred! Let the bidding begin!"

Fighting the urge to grab L0K1, punch the woman and run, Sam turns his attention back to the holos for a moment while the price builds. The pictures have changed, and with a sick jolt he recognizes the currently on-sale android in every image- spread out, strung up, chained down, contorted and twisted and bent in a dozen impossible ways. A wave of nausea hits him and he tears his gaze away, covering his mouth in horror.

"Do I hear nine hundred? Nine hundred, do I hear a thousand? One thousand from the gentleman in the green jacket..."

Scanning the crowd in disgust, Sam's eyes accidentally catch another man's- a tall guy in a black, hooded sweatshirt, blue eyes sunken and cold. The man nods at him, once, acknowledging, and Sam returns the motion nervously, then turns back to the stage,

"One thousand and three hundred, do I hear higher? You, ma'am..."

Ten minutes later, the price is up to three thousand and the crowd has thinned considerably- it's down to four people.

"Three thousand and five hundred from the lady!"

Said lady is a slender Indian woman, beautiful in a severe, cruel way, and she smiles viciously at the three men bidding against her, clearly enjoying the challenge. The man to her right scowls and jerks his hand, upping to four thousand.

"A solid four thousand from Mister Alistair, one of our most valued clients!"

The guy returns the woman's grin, a vindictive, manic light in his eyes, and Sam recognizes him as the one who bought the array of wicked-looking tools in the last round. The Hunter's not sure, but he thinks he spotted him in several of the more twisted, sickening holos.

"Do I hear higher?"

The woman pauses a beat, hesitant, and Sam finally steps up because no way is L0K1 going home with Alistair.

"Five thousand," he says out loud, ignoring auction etiquette.

"Five thousand from the tall gentleman!"

Alistair and the woman glare acidly at him, then at each other. She shakes her head, turning on one heel and striding out like an irritated cat. The shorter man stays a few moments, his covetous stare darting from Sam to L0K1 and back before snarling once and grabbing his box of devices, following the woman.

It's just Sam and the man in the black hoodie now. There's an unspoken tension in the air, the sense of fierce competition.

Five thousand and two hundred.

Five thousand and five hundred.

Six thousand.

_Shit_, Sam thinks, _when did it get that high?_ He wouldn't pay six thousand for a brand new droid, let alone this damaged shell of an abused sex doll. Does he really want to spend this much on this L0K1, whose personality has been wiped and who probably has no memory of the strange human he saved so long ago? Is it worth it?

He glances cautiously to the side and is surprised by the expression on the opposing bidder's face. He's staring intently at L0K1, but rather than the avaricious, possessively lustful look the others had, he seems almost... reverent. He's watching L0K1 with a soft gleam in his pale eyes, a slight hitch at the corners of his mouth, the way one might look at the childhood photo of a lost friend. He catches Sam's appraising stare, meets it and smiles briefly, respectfully. Like a tip of the hat. Maybe this guy is different. Maybe he's like Sam- someone who knows what L0K1 is, was, and just wants to help him- to save him. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he won...

L0K1, who has had his head down, either from decorum or lack of interest, looks up and sees the stranger's face. His tawny eyes go wide with recognition, and for the first time since the beginning of these proceedings, he looks concerned about the outcome. In fact, he looks terrified. He's shaking his head wordlessly, frantic, as he steps back, like he's trying to escape the hooded man's sight. He jerks at the chain, and the woman to his right jabs him subtly in the bruise over his ribs, sending him heavily to his knees.

"Seven thousand," the stranger says calmly, voice smooth.

L0K1 turns his fearful eyes to Sam, not recognizing but pleading, begging silently and without hope. Sam glances sideways at the other man again, and almost takes a step back himself. The soft, nostalgic look is gone. In its place is a mask of cool, calculated victory- and utter, complete madness. This man is insane, his expression burning holes into the chained Angel like a piece of meat. L0K1's gaze drops back down in resignation, in acceptance of his fate.

_No fucking chance_, Sam thinks furiously. _Absolutely not._ "Ten thousand," he announces loudly.

All eyes focus immediately on him ranging from delight (the madame, who has been beside herself with joy since they hit the five thousand mark and looks like she can't believe her luck) to shock (L0K1, whose head whipped up in stunned surprise at Sam's words) and anger (the stranger, who, judging by the cold rage in his shadowed face, has exceeded his price range).

"Well," the blonde woman titters breathlessly, "Ten thousand. Do- do I hear hi-"

"No," the blue-eyed man interrupts. "You do not." He glares disdainfully at her, shoots an indecipherable look at L0K1, who is standing slowly, and turns to leave. He passes Sam, actually baring his teeth at the taller man. His hood slips a bit as he bumps the Hunter's shoulder, and Sam get s a brief glimpse of his face in the light- pale and sickly, marred by raw, red patches of skin.

"We uh," the madame clears her throat as the door slams shut behind the stranger. "We have a winner! Congratulations, sir!" She gestures and L0K1 is led away behind the thick curtains. Smile firmly in place once more, she descends the stage and approaches Sam. "What room will you be wanting?"

"Room?" He repeats blankly.

She nods happily. "Every client that exceeds eight thousand in business is entitled to a free room of their choice for up to ten hours. Of course, L0K1 can be prepared for a variety of fantasies- he's very volatile." She peers contemplatively up at him. "How about the Classroom? He looks awfully good in a janitor's uniform, and he can do some things with a mop that you wouldn't believe."

Dammit, the image of L0K1 in uniform should not send shivers up Sam's spine. He shakes his head uneasily, which she interprets as "next".

"Hmm, well, if you're interested in something a bit more exotic, there's the Pagan Altar- dark forest, torchlit clearing, big stone circle with lots of runes and torches. Or the Casa Erotica suite, one of our top sellers- it's the actual set of the old films, perfectly preserved."

"No," Sam manages, trying not to be sick on her shiny white shoes.

She purses her lips. "Too vanilla? We've got a perfect reproduction of an extraterrestrial probing room- real Poleepkwa technology, _very_ high-end. Or, if you want traditional, there's the Dungeon-"

"No, I- Jesus, I just want- can you just, like, call me a taxi? I don't need a room. I'll just pay and take him home." He runs a hand through his hair in exasperation.

She nods solicitously. "I understand completely, sir. If you'll follow me, we can arrange that."

She leads him back to the front, scanning his subcutaneous credit chip. "What name may I put this under?"

"Oh," he tears his gaze away from the cakes on display; now that the bidding is over he;s remembered how hungry he is. "Sam Wesson.'

"Very good, Mister Wesson. Let me just call a car... L0K1 is being prepared for transport." She catches his eye, looking amused. "Did you want a cake or two? On the house."

"Sure, yeah." He selects a black forest monstrosity and a cherry pie, knowing that Dean will eagerly accept the latter. She boxes them up, handing them over as a curvy black woman wheels a man-sized crate up to the door- an Angelic carrying case.

"He's been put into sleep mode for the trip," the madame explains, proffering a battered user's manual chip and a translucent business card that reads _Chastity- the Den of Iniquity: Heavenly Delights for Earthly Desires! _followed by a phone number. "If you have any questions, or you want to make an appointment," she winks, "Call me night or day. Enjoy your Angel."

He nods numbly, slipping the card and chip into his pocket and following the black woman outside. She loads the crate into the backseat of a sleek red auto, holding the front door open for Sam.

He enters Bobby's address and sinks as far into the seat as he can. The ride is smooth and quiet- unlike the rattling deathtrap his brother adore. _Oh shit_. His brother. How the hell is dean gonna react to Sam bringing home a freaking _sex_ _doll_? And Bobby- it's been hard enough to get him to accept Cas; how will the old Hunter deal with having another Angel- an Archangel, at that- in the house?

_What am I doing? I just_ bought someone_! I just spent _ten thousand credits _on someone I barely remember, and for what? Some stupid, misguided childhood crush?_

By the time the car pulls into the scrapyard, he's nearly paralyzed with indecision. _Shit_. He climbs out, unloads the crate. _Shit_. The car zooms away, automatically going back to the brothel. Shit shit shit. Glancing around guiltily, he hefts the box and the pastries and makes for the house. The Impala's gone- thank god- and Bobby's in the garage, apparently teaching a silently attentive Cas to dismantle an engine. As quickly and quietly as possible, he steals upstairs with his cargo, practically sprinting the last few yards and slamming the door.

"Okay," he says aloud to himself, setting the crate down on the bed. "So, you bought an ex-Archangel-turned-sex-doll. Not a complete disaster, right? I mean... at least I didn't find him in a scrap pile. Right, okay, I'll just- I'll just restart him, repair him, and then uh- fuck, shit, crap, I have no idea, shit." He tales a deep breath. "Right." He pries open the lid.

L0K1 is nestled in crushed velvet, silent and peaceful, dressed only in a pair of clinging red silk boxers. Up close, the makeup rubbed away, the bruises are like splashes of paint, graffiti on a marble statue. There are harsh, scabbed chain marks around his wrists, bite marks on his neck. Sighing, Sam runs his long fingers through the Angel's maple sugar hair, finding the Halo and switching it on.

The first thing to move is L0K1's chest, breathing slowly. He opens his startling eyes cautiously, blinking a few times as he focuses on Sam. He attempts to look the Hunter up and down, but only succeeds in looking him up and more up.

"Oh," he says quietly. "Right. Well, thank fuck for small mercies."

Sam frowns. "What does that mean?"

The android climbs awkwardly out of his box. "Nothing, just- could be worse." He winces suddenly, as if he's afraid that his words will be taken as a challenge. "i mean, uh- I'm sure you're- you could crush a little thing like me with one big strong hand." He gives a nervous chuckle, taking a few unsteady steps to the window and looking down. "Oh," he says again, in a different tone. "Shit. This is a scrapyard. A chop shop."

"Um," Sam says awkwardly. "Well, yeah."

"Smart idea, kiddo, but I think you miscalculated," the Archangel shrugs. "i'm not worth ten thousand in any condition- not now, anyway. Dissembled I'm guessing I'll bring in about three thousand. Maybe four, if you manage to harvest my brain. Welp!" He spins suddenly, clapping loudly and startling the Hunter, who had been drifting closer. "Let's go get this over with!"

"Wait, what?" Sam manages, trying to catch up. "No, that's not what- that isn't why I brought you here."

"Oh, are we doing this first? Huh," L0K1 nods. "That makes sense, I guess. Okay.' He drops to his knees in front of the human, looking up at him from under bruised lids as he reaches for Sam's fly.

"Fuck, wait, that's-" Sam tries to jerk away but L0K1's already got ahold of him, pulling him out of his briefs and stroking him with a sure, practiced grip into hardness. "Shit-" he orders himself not to react, but it's too late- with the combination of calculated friction and those molten gold eyes burning into him he's already lost. He grunts when the smaller being applies perfect pressure just under the head of him, leaning in to breathe warm and moist against his shaft. "Oh shit, Jesus, oh-" He's stumbling backward, landing on the bed, his brain shorting out because L0K1 has just swallowed him down in one motion, no tentative licking or false starts, just _wet_ and _hot_ and _sofuckinggoodohfuckohfuckshit_. The Angel activates something in his throat, some combination vibration and suction thing, and the Hunter's vision whites out for a second.

Sam lifts his head weakly, watching L0K1 lavish attention on his cock and thinking, with the last brain cell he has, that this alone is worth the ten thousand. His head falls back as he feels a finger nudge gently at the spot just behind his balls, whimpering helplessly between animalistic groans, his hips jabbing upward. "Yes, yes, god please yes, that's so good, god, so good- please-!" His fingers dig into the Archangel's hair, gripping but not yanking, holding his head in place and the android makes a soft noise, taking him impossibly deeper, lips tight around the base of him.

Sam's orgasm builds and rolls through like a freak storm, and if he had any sort of ability to process thoughts right now he'd feel embarrassed, because he hasn't come this fast since he was fourteen. He makes a valiant attempt to warn L0K1, but can only manage a "Hhgh!"

It doesn't seem to matter, in any case- L0K1 swallows everything, milking him with tongue and lips and the slightest hint of teeth, pulling away to nuzzle and suck gently at him as he softens. After a few minutes, when the room stops spinning, the Angel looks up at him cautiously.

"Was that okay?"

"Mmhrgh," Sam replies, feeling immensely proud of himself, because hey, that was nearly English!

"Good enough," L0K1 decides, sitting back on his heels and wiping his mouth before tucking Sam back into his underwear and zipping him up, all with a kind of professional courtesy.

Sam knows he should say something (preferably something that includes actual words), something to explain this whole mess to L0K1, to assure him that there are no plans to dissemble him, to tell him that he saved Sam and that Sam will never, ever hurt him, but as it is all the Hunter can do is roll over and wriggle his way up the bed until he reaches the pillows, making a sort of vague "come hither" gesture at the Angel. L0K1 stands there a few beats, looking confused and wary, and Sam gives the mattress a pat, inviting. Finally the Archangel seems to get the idea, and he crawls onto the bed very, very carefully- whether he's trying not to disturb his new owner or moving slowly because of his wounds, Sam isn't sure. L0K1 lays down stiffly next to him, on his back, as close to the edge of the bed as possible, and Sam uses the last of his energy to roll his eyes, hook an arm around the smaller being's waist, and tuck his tense but unresisting form against his own.

GAB-R13L lays silent and still as a statue for the first hour, waiting for his new keeper to roll him over and start the next round, or drag him down to the yard to scrap him, or any of the myriad things his overactive brain can come up with. When nothing continues to happen, he swallows, glances around, and allows himself to power down, just for a few minutes.

...

_Many shapes and weights to choose from._

_I will never leave my bedroom,_

_I will never cry at night again._

_Wrap my arms around him and pretend._

_Coin-operated boy, _

_He may not be real_

_Experienced with girls,_

_But I know he feels _

_Like a boy should feel._

_Isn't that the point?_

_That is why I want_

_A coin-operated boy,_

_With a pretty coin-operated voice_

_Saying that he loves me,_

_That he's thinking of me,_

_Straight and to-the-point._

_That is why I want_

_A coin-operated boy._


	8. Chapter 8

Okay, it's been a while, and I know this is kind of a piddly update, but I'm working on the next one AS WE SPEAK. I apologize, and to those of you that stuck around- I love you and you get a free coupon to the Den of Inequity.

...

GAB-R13L's systems wake him up precisely six hours later to find his new owner curled up facing him, a sort of soft, open look on his face as his fingers stroke lightly through the android's hair.

GAB-R13L's not sure what to make of this.

His systems are still powering up and doing their usual run-throughs, so before he can stop himself he blurts, "Did I fall asleep?" and is then overcome with the urge to slap himself. It's been a while since he's been privately owned but he should still know better than to speak before being spoken to- especially with a brand new owner, one he hasn't quite got a feel for yet. He wants- needs- to make a good impression, since evidently he's _not_ bound for the scrap heap at the moment.

The lanky human doesn't seem bothered, thankfully. He just smiles and looks vaguely sheepish. "For a little while, I think." His hand has yet to leave GAB-R13L's hair. Not that the Archangel minds.

"Would-" GAB-R13L decides to push his luck (since this owner apparently doesn't have a problem with him taking initiative), "Would you like me to make you some breakfast- sir?" He tries, since this human (once again going against the norm) has yet to give him a preferred title.

Apparently it's a mistake; the man's nose wrinkles and a crease appears in his forehead and GAB-R13L freezes in panic.

But then the human surprises him yet again by simply grinning (and _oh no, are those dimples? Those are dimples. Crap_) and saying, "Please, nobody calls me 'sir'."

"Master?" The Angel offers.

That just earns another wrinkled nose and the shake of his owner's shaggy head. "Just- my name's Sam. Sam Winchester. Just call me Sam."

"Sam," GAB-R13L echoes.

Sam beams and shifts forward a bit.

"Sammy?" He tries, flashing a quick, roguish grin.

"Absolutely not," the tall human says with a scowl.

The Archangel nods quickly. "Would you like me to make you some breakfast, Sam?"

"No, I think Bobby's probably got that covered. But, listen, L0K1- what else can I call you? I mean, L0K1's not your real name, is it?"

GAB-R13L's automatic reaction is to say something like "You can call me whatever floats your boat, Sugar" but once again his mouth moves without his brain's consent. "GAB-R13L," he mumbles. "They used to call me GAB-R13L."

Sam's hazel-brown eyes turn warm, the sort of gentle softness that makes the android's insides squirm weirdly. "Is it..." He clears his throat, hand finally falling from the Archangel's hair. "Would it be okay if I called you Gabriel? Like the original angel?"

Something in GAB-R13L's throat clenches. "Of course, Mast- Sam."

The human graces him with another smile, then slides out from under the covers, blushing faintly and re-buttoning his shirt. L0K1 quickly moves to follow, but when he sets his feet on the floor and stands, his battered legs finally give out. Sam turns just in time to see him drop out of sight.

"Wh- Gabriel!" The Hunter hurdles over the bed and slings a supportive arm around his Angel's belly, keeping him from hitting the ground. "What the hell-"

"My bad," GAB-R13L says automatically, offering a watery grin.

"You're still hurt," Sam says, in a tone that sounds like he's cursing himself for not realizing this earlier. "Jesus, I'm an _idiot_."

"Nuh!" GAB-R13L tries to protest. Ignoring him, the human hauls him upright and back onto the bed.

"Stay here, okay? I'm gonna get Cas." The shockingly genuine concern in his voice catches L0K1 off guard once again, but he forces himself not to think too hard on it.

Instead he asks, "Cas?"

"Yeah," Sam replies distractedly, running his oversized hands gingerly up and down his companion's arms. "My brother's Angel, CAS-T13L, he told me he does repairs on other Angels-"

He doesn't get to finish his explanation because he is suddenly thrown back by a ball of desperate energy as GAB-R13L goes stagger-leaping toward the door and into the hallway, shouting the other android's name hoarsely even as he slams into the wall to support himself.

"Wait-" Sam rolls off the bed and goes scrambling after him, slipping on the flung sheets. "Gabriel! Shit."

...

CAS-T13L has been skirting around Dean, keeping out of the human's line of sight ever since 'the incident'. First he cleaned every surface in the house (avoiding the bedrooms after a few disturbing discoveries), then he puttered aimlessly until Bobby dragged him into the garage and had him work on a vintage Smart car. When he finished the task in barely three hours, the old Hunter quickly got his new star pupil six more vehicles to repair.

He's working his way through the fourth one when the door slams open and GAB-R13L, unexpected, impossible GAB-R13L, barrels past Bobby and attaches himself to the younger Angel.

"GAB-R13L?" CAS-T13L gasps, staggering to support the smaller android even as Bobby demands explanations.

"Hey, bro," the Archangel manages weakly.


	9. Chapter 9

Holy Hell it's been a while; I'm still alive I swear but I've been mostly posting on AO3- got a bunch of new stuff there under the name SaunterVaguely if you want to check it out!

Anyway, here's some update for you precious patient angelfaces.

...

Dean spent the afternoon yesterday busying himself with 'research'- which boils down to drinking, eating, and drinking, while his sound system blasted his retro music as loud as it would go.

He misses the part when Sam sneaks back in, and he's blacked out through the night and a decent part of the morning, so he doesn't hear the loud sex noises or the subsequent shouting of CAS' name. It's only when Sam goes thundering past his door that he jerks awake and goes meandering grumpily through the hall and into the garage after his brother.

He's greeted by the sight of a short, mostly-naked android practically hanging off of a stunned CAS-T13L's neck, while Bobby and Sam hover on either side, looking confused and worried, respectively.

"What?" He manages after a moment.

"-thought you were dead! How are you not dead? I felt your last transmission, I felt you die!" The smaller Angel is shouting at CAS-T13L at high speed, and seems to be on the verge of either collapsing or exploding.

"I was- I did sort of- well-" the blue-eyed android squints like he's not sure where to start, and Sam takes the opportunity to step up and gently take hold of the nearly-nude Angel, supporting him with great care.

"Somebody wanna explain to me just how another one of you strays got into my house?" Bobby grunts, arms crossed.

"I bought him in the red light district," Sam blurts. When that earns him several skeptical and somewhat alarmed looks, he goes red and continues. "At an auction. With, you know, my cut of the money from the last job."

Bobby stares. "So he's a..."

"Sam, you're a dork but I'm pretty damn sure you don't need to buy yourself a sexbot. If you wanted to get laid you coulda just gone to a bar," Dean says slowly. "Is it a kinky thing? 'Cause there are plenty of _humans_ out there-"

"It's not a kinky thing," the small android pipes up, leaning back against Sam like his legs aren't quite doing the trick. "Far as I can tell he's pretty vanilla."

Dean makes a horrified face.

"Dean, this is Gabriel. The Archangel," Sam explains hurriedly.

"Doesn't look like one."

"I was reprogrammed," Gabriel offers.

"Okay, cool, that's nice but it still doesn't explain why the hell Sam bought an Archangel."

"Not an Archangel, Dean. _The_ Archangel."

"What, you mean like-"

Sam nods frantically.

"...Oh."

Now Gabriel is the one looking lost while realization dawns on the faces of the humans.

"Uh. What?" He glances around, raising a hand questioningly. "I must have missed a memo somewhere. Anyone wanna clue me in?"

Everyone shares a sort of guilty, awkward silence in which they all look shiftily at one another. The ex-Archangel makes a growly noise of frustration and turns to the only other android in the room.

"Somebody better 'fess up quick," he says accusingly.

CAS-T13L blinks and makes a face. "I- I feel it is not my place to explain this situation to you, as there are emotional connotations that I have only just been introduced to and do not have a full-"

"Okay, okay, calm down, don't overload your motherboard," Gabriel holds up a hand to stop him. "So who _is_ qualified to explain? Because I'm honestly starting to worry."

"I am," Sam blurts, half-stepping forward. "I mean I was gonna tell you anyway, I just hadn't... figured out... how to. Yet," he ends lamely, feeling overwhelmingly self-conscious.

Everybody looks at him. Finally Bobby heaves a sigh and turns toward the door. "Well, I for one am gonna let you figure that out right now while I go have a drink and do my taxes before Crowley offers to help me for the fiftieth time."

Dean snorts and adds, "Yeah, wouldn't want him taking advantage of your delicate sensibilities." He follows the older man, glancing back at his brother once and avoiding eye contact with CAS entirely.

The dark-haired android gazes after him with an expression somewhere between longing and agony before tearing away to grasp Gabriel's hand loosely. "I am... very glad to know that you are well, GAB-R13L," he says quietly. "And when you and Sam have finished speaking I will repair you."

The blonde smiles up at him and squeezes his fingers, nodding.

CAS-T13L leaves, shutting the door behind him, and Sam eases Gabriel down into the nearest chair, taking the one opposite him. Before the android can comment, the floppy-haired human has picked up the smaller being's feet and set them in his lap, thumbs rubbing circles into the arches of them. Gabriel freezes, staring at his owner like he's grown another head, then all but melts into the chair when those massive hands press into the spaces under his ankle bones.

"So this..." Sam starts haltingly. "This is gonna be kind of- awkward, and it's probably gonna sound weird, and, and-" He lets out a shaky breath and traces his knuckles along the Angel's heel. He looks up from under the fringe of his hair and smiles weakly. "I'll try to keep it coherent, okay?"

Gabriel returns the grin, eyes hooded. "Kiddo, you could probably say anything at this point and I'd be fine with it, just keep usin' those magic hands."

Sam chuckles and clears his throat. "Okay, well, I guess the best way to start would be- why were you reprogrammed?" He asks it slowly, like he's hoping to prompt an answer he already knows.

The ex-Archangel's eyes snap open and his body tenses. "I went against my programming."

"How so?"

Gabriel closes his eyes, the bruises on his face standing out. "I sort of maybe ran out on a big giant battle to save some snot-nosed munchkin."

Sam blinks those big puppy eyes at him. "Do you... regret it?"

There's no hesitation when the android shakes his head. "Nope. It was probably one of the best judgements I've made."

The human's face lights up. Gabriel squints at him.

"Why was that important...?"

"Uh, well," Sam begins his nervous fondling of the Angel's toes once more. "Maybe that munchkin survived and maybe he kind of grew up nursing a massive crush for you and spent a good portion of his life trying to find you-"

"What?!" Gabriel shoots upright from his slouched position, ignoring the jolts of pain from all over, gaping at the human.

"I'm sorry!" Sam blurts. "I was gonna tell you last night, as soon as I got you, but then things happened and you sort of broke my brain and then-"

"But- you?!" Gabriel asks in a strangled voice.

The taller man winces. "This isn't at all how I pictured this happening, god, I'm such a-" He runs a shaky hand through his hair. "I mean, god, I- I'd thought about meeting you for years, planned out a whole speech in my head, but of course it's completely flown out the window, and I'm just fucking everything up and now I'm rambling-"

"Sam," the android bends forward, slipping from his chair and into the human's lap and disrupting the babble all in one movement.

"I'm sorry," Sam repeats, his voice a hoarse whisper as he stares up at the Archangel-turned-sex-toy with something like worship in his eyes. He reaches a trembling hand up to brush a few stray hairs from Gabriel's bruised cheek. "I'm so, so sorry it took me so long to find you. If I'd been quicker I could've saved you."

Gabriel doesn't tell Sam that he did save him, because he thinks that wouldn't be entirely true. He doesn't say that he didn't need saving either, because he knows that wouldn't be true. Instead he cups the human's sharp jaw with both hands, strokes his cheeks and whispers, "_Sam_," as he leans in and kisses the man.


End file.
